Lady’s test peach/raspberry pie for county fair
Out at the In-laws 13
Chasing cloud shadow over empty concrete,
green and road and time running by like burning oakam.
Big dude dog Miles thumps tail to back deck
as ma’am and me and her parents of be
talk tales of bathhouses in backs of barns,
84 yr old open mic poetry virgins,
Thomas Jefferson’s shitter in the library,
how blacksmiths in auto’s first years
helped set low speed limits to slow the cars
which were hurting their horse maintenance business,
you know, the old gold standard of operating procedure
where money follows money follows money follows money,
like when climate changed worsened weather
backs up our sewers in a perfect shitstorm
someone still gets paid.
And while we’re here,
where are the skyroads, the windways,
the searoads for quadrocopter air?
Or the aero vello flair?
Speaking of flare,
studies say smelling people’s farts at parties
improves your health,
though they’re not the type of folk you’d want around
being party poofers and all.
Ma-in-law tells of luring feral cats to spaying
with cans of wet catfood.
“That’s how I got my first girlfriend,” I spurt.
The hummingbirds chirp and bubble
swoop and sweep at honeywater
as the cardinal on the feeder hops and eats
then hops and looks over edge at the kittens below
before hop and eat again
taking care
surviving business
as things fly round in squeak squawk flit flop
interacting talking talk
while half of em eat the other
for in this day there’s no free lunch to give away.
“Oh dear I’ve pie dough in my hair,” wife laments.
I used to play with Pie-doh as a kid, I reply,
later studied Piedoh’s philosophy in college.
Down by the pond with the lilies on the pads
and the frogs in-between,
dragonflies vectoring air,
willow weaves in breezes blowing
showing flowing in the leaves,
all while we’re waiting the baking
wife’s practice county fair pie
of peaches and raspberries
with crisp no-chill crust
to be successfully tossed to our tastebuds to test.
– Smith, 7.14.2014
out at in-laws July 2014