2007-04-04
The summer of our best tomatoes
We quarreled frequently.
I picked ticks from my ankles,
They clung to me like I was woolen.
After the tilling, we amended the soil
using bat guano and composed sealife.
Each plant received a small hill.
The corn was terrible
It never made it to half-life
And deer chomped it down.
But oh those tomatoes.
And we quarreled
the land between us grew
I moved South to flee you
and you mailed them
in a battered box
which arrived with a postal service note
"Damaged in transit"
and I washed the mash from the intact fruit and ate them like apples.