I have it all figured it out. Everything I
ever learned about life and lying I have
scooped up from the farm with half-eaten
apples tossed to the ditch, because up the
road there’s a hundred pretty plums.
It’s the boy’s mother who tells me that
I must have been raised right as it were
and how impressed she is to see me in
her kitchen with the potato peeler on the
right edge of a carrot. Their green icebox
hums as the boy and man chew tobacco and
spit their wads, waiting for the chance of which
I might be in cahoots with them. If you
think I’d start packing Red Man, they were
thinking it too…boots and cow patties…probably.
So I said it right out that I wasn’t worth saving,
that honest to goodness I was all farmed-out for
the day, but yes ma’am, biscuits for breakfast
would give me more vigor. And could they forgive,
as the good Lord does, a puny thing like me?
Their eyes puckered up all sour when they
chewed on my plea for they knew there were
the granny smith kind, but also the delicious.
Too sweet melts in the rain, and I wished I were so.
So I said it real sweet- just as sweet as sweet
could be, and wide-eyed so they could wink and
start calling me honey or darling like I liked so
much more than little shit-kicker out in the cold.
[So here’s the prompt to write a “golden shovel” at http://www.napowrimo.net/2014/04/day-five/
*Just saying…if you read only the last words from each of my clumsy lines it will reveal William Carlos Williams’ poem This is Just to Say in its entirety.]