My Mom and Yellow Things

So here's a poem I wrote about my Mom and Yellow Things.

My mother has two huge bottles of mustard
In the kitchen cabinet. They are large, yellow things, 7 in by 3 in. 
Why so much mustard? 
She eats hotdogs infrequently
And I, not at all, being a vegetarian. 
Potato salad, maybe? 
Like a teaspoonful for the whole dish
Does she think at the end of the world
People will line up to pay her for a teaspoonful
of mustard for all those potato salads they'll be making? 
Maybe she's thinking of making a potato gun
With the key ingredient a mite of mustard
"To burn the eyes."

There they are in their brilliance.
Sending me an obtuse message
Too much 'tard.  Less 'tard, please. 
That maybe one day I'll get her secret jokes
Only other pantrymates would get. 

But probably my mother just felt the need
For more yellow in our dreary cabinet of
Blue salt canisters and diced tomato cans. 

And go on to make my own color and secret jokes and doomsday predictions. 
"And Go on me."