When little sister fell down the well,
We retrieved her by pulley, rope, and bucket.
She, bruised, wet, learned a lesson. Maybe.
Doves fly over as hunters blast away;
Nothing falls but droppings in one eye.
‘I can’t see Jack-squat, Billy Bob.’
Hook from my fly-cast catches the wife’s ear lobe,
And screaming like a banshee, she falls out of the boat.
Even worse, she was using my best Garcia tackle.
In my first garden, I planted corn in one row;
Stalks grew tall alright but made no ears.
Later I learned about two’s and tangoes.
Bill Faulkner showed up for a tennis game stone drunk;
Will Percy—sober, Stoic—had no earthly use for such.
No love lost or gained on the court that day.
When grandma died, the gathered kinfolk chatted
As if she were just in the kitchen fixing dinner.
At ten, baffled, I wept in silence on her bed.
When Zeke and Billy Bob went frog gigging,
Billy Bob speared first and found his mark.
‘It ain’t got no legs, Billy Bob!’ ‘Ain’t no frog either, Zeke.’
First tried bacon, later sausage, and then smoked ham;
Moved on to pulled pork and, better yet, spare ribs.
Last and least: chitlins. Taste buds turned rebel.
Two buzzards light in separate trees high overhead;
I catch a scent that is clearly not Chanel #5.
As I leave, the pair descends to feast on their repast.
At sixteen, I played with fire in a field to see what it would do;
It did what fires will do faster than my feet could run.
After the fire department put it out, a hot seat helped me see the light.
“At sixteen, I played with fire in a field to see what it would do;
It did what fires will do faster than my feet could run.
After the fire department put it out, a hot seat helped me see the light.”
Memories– but a bit before sixteen!
Sixteen! You had me by a good six or seven years…I was helping my grandparents clean up their backyard…and did a wonderful job setting half of Walnut Hills ablaze…in the first burning of Vicksburg.