© 2003  Carol Graser

COOP ORDER

When the coop order is unloaded and
mostly mothers and their children
ring boxes like a small fire, kids with
summer legs jangle the driveway

The truck driver saunters over and
you notice how butch with even a Key West
crisp tee shirt, her broad manly chest and
smiling cute with strawberry crew

It's not until you're stacking tofu
on top of juice, heaving up and into
the Unitarian kitchen that she begins to watch you
and how organic the flow of attraction

You put more zest in your lift, more swing
in your carry and soon the black haired
thick lashed young man is laughing at your lame jokes
and he's the tender type, watercolors and ink

PANNING

Their brilliance flashes
hits you like glitter in rocky muck
The daily daily on your knees sifting and suddenly
one of them utters a diamond hard phrase
that leaves you tearily stunned
You turn over the dull rock
let the crystal catch at the sun
savor the shy jewel moment

The child smiles with dusty arms
her red heart pumping
What bright riches she asks you to guard
undug     unspoiled

GRASSROOTS MUSIC FESTIVAL

rain drenched our fields   settling
the dust between us   we settled
into the good dirt flow   music
our sex   our swimming breeze  
    beer   beer   beer
and coffee   shirtless young men
leaned against smoke   mud caked
the two year old's sandals   skirted
women raised languid arms   the whole
world was drumming   heat rose
melting our intentions

     O riddle of community 
        dots of mind
          O try

All poems are copyrighted property of Carol Graser.

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