apples
the drumbeats of war
the caterwaul coming from
the inept and starched houses of washington
again and again and again
and the fruit vendor
apologizes for the cost of his apples going up
premium, he tells me
we buy premium apples now
used to be ninety-nine cents a pound
but now a dollar thirty
i don’t care, i tell him
it’s like passing oil through
the strait of hormuz
i have no real choice in the matter
an apple a day…..
but you notice the difference, he says
wrapping them up in wasted plastic
not really
but i smile and nod anyway
premium, he tells me again
handing me my bag
premium, i say back to him
shaking my little sack of gold
had to raise costs, he admits, waving
because, in the end, the fruit vendor
is way more honest
than any chamber of congress
and maybe we should throw him up there
with the rest of the fools
come any gray and gloomy november.
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2 comments:
You are only jealous because you don't have a printing press in your basement! ;)
It's a neat poem.
i live in an apartment...i'm jealous of people who have basements :)
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