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Buddy carried salt tablets
into desert summers.
He’d take off his cowboy hat,
reveal a brilliant half dome
above a deep brown tan
traced with dirt. His snap-
fastened shirt showed sweeps
of dried sweat. Little vials
filled with tiny pills, sprinkled
on kitchen and end tables
like a heart patient’s stash
of nitroglycerine. A burlap
water bag hung off his truck’s
grill, dripping, disappearing.
Pineapple only came in a can
and all lettuce was Iceberg.
Miracle Whip every day or Thousand
Island on payday and I dreamed
of Mediterranean shorelines
as obscure as lost tribes pictured
in the National Geographic.
I thought the chrysanthemums
in my mother’s garden exotic
and cleaned her purse looking
for spare change, pennies
to make me rich, peppermints
to wet my tongue against the dry.

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Yesterday’s poem written today. Prompted by SB Poet over at Watermark. Used her words salt, pineapple and chrysanthemum. And added memory.

* * *

Some folks are participating in a Couplets blog tour, coordinated by Joanne Merriam of Upper Rubber Boot Books. Angie Werren will be sharing her micro-poetry space at feathers with other poets. Sherry Chandler is also participating. Do give a read.