plum-tipped grass

the guy in the flatbed truck
who doesn’t talk in this poem
who doesn’t think as he looks
watches her rise out of nowhere
which is exactly in the middle
of the rippling green waves of
his secret pink brain, in the
middle of the plum-
tipped grass tickling her cheek

her hair, her legs,
impress him as Spring embodied
and he wants to know the secret
meadow where she often goes, he wants
to know if they once, in fact, have
lied there together – but he’s struck
stupid, uneasy. and she only half
-way means to leave that grass stain,
– to start that brush fire

::

for Real Toads

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22 thoughts on “plum-tipped grass

  1. I love your reading of this poem, Angie. The narrative works so well on both a literal and figurative level.. The dumbfounded man in awe of Spring, overcome with lust at the sight of a pretty girl.

  2. We went from liking the coming of spring to the thoughts of ‘fun in the grass.’ Guess that’s easy to do.
    Right away I was reminded of the Eagles song, “Take it Easy”:
    “Well, I’m a standing on a corner
    in Winslow, Arizona
    and such a fine sight to see
    It’s a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed
    Ford slowin’ down to take a look at me
    Come on, baby, don’t say maybe
    I gotta know if your sweet love is
    gonna save me
    We may lose and we may win though
    we will never be here again
    so open up, I’m climbin’ in,
    so take it easy “

    ..

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