Devouring Cold Watermelon in This Anonymous River Town

Devouring Cold Watermelon in This Anonymous River Town

Big, oblong, and mottled green,

flat and faded yellow on the bottom

where they’ve sat in the field, heavy with promise –

they wobble in the back on the drive home

and respond with a ripe ‘crack’ as they’re sliced open.

You can eat a car trunk full of all that water and fiber;

fill up for a few calories and practice wild gluttony.

The land never felt so generous as you gaze across those green orbs

in a hazy summer field  wavering in the sun.

And as the juice dribbles from your lips onto the thirsty soil,

you know it’s true that only a fool

would pass by this area’s fine, vine ripened produce.

In a river bottom town,

half a watermelon should sit in the fridge

nearby a dozen cold beers, or you simply

do not have the supplies to be neighborly.