WAITING FOR THE DOOR TO OPEN

 

WAITING FOR THE DOOR TO OPEN

0845 hours

Outside Johnson Orchards

waiting for 9 am opening after coffee

with B, M, D,

Fresh Produce

August peaches, nectarines, plums

on the first day of September

Rain last night

Muscles sore from raking thatch

in yard yesterday, not

just leg muscles

Hands sore, arthritic, pulled-out

Filled that yard bin though

M’s are in NY

playing Mets interleague,

Here’s September baseball.

Karen’s sewing today

at Harmon Center

making a table cloth

Before I left for coffee

I mad her lunch

Ham and havarti cheese sandwich

with butter on wheat bread

One chocolate chip cookie

and a handful of pretzels

in the same baggie

along with a cup of yogurt

The only plastic spoon

in the drawer left over

from Vietnamese takeout pho

Johnson’s Orchards

Same family, same location,

since 1901. I’m looking

for some peaches for tonight

The two Lindas, Chama,

coming for tacos, beans and rice

Peaches and ice cream

It must be just about 9 am

There is simply no accounting for Karen’s love

This poem’s written

and my bladder’s filling up

When I check the time on my phone

I see that it’s 8:53

which means, by my math,

this poem took eight minutes to compose

That word, compose, now

Carefully chosen after eliminating write

without a second thought

Jim Bodeen

1 September 2023