Dirty Dealings

Fritz Purdum mined these memories with his poem Boy playing in Dirt. My grandson an introverted chap On the playground after lunchtime nap In the garden of kinders a most fragile Bloom off by himself just seeking some room Drawing quietly in the dirt sought by the cub of a lion seeking something to hurt A little girl approached said what are you doing there,I'll say you wrote you would kill me because I just don't care Before she could trot off to falsely make her report the lone gazelle raised his eyes and gave a little snort Go ahead she knows I can't even write......... Second memory Free Verse Late one Summer afternoon as I drove past the substation my brother a lineman worked out of, I saw he was alone at the end of his day .His partner already having left for home . I layed on the horn and he waved me inside.In his locker he showed me two small bottles of dirt.One bottle taken from southeast missouri came from our mothers grave.The other from high on a hill in Southern Illinois from our fathers. Mom's was lighter in color and more Sandy in texture.Dad's was dark and loamy. We took a little of each added water and made a paste.Using our fingers we marked our faces As tribal members . He got out the camera used to record damage on poles and took our pictures.They are probably in his life's collection somewhere. Then we mixed the two and made full facial masks that dried as we drank coffee which I had made. As all this was going on we discussed our parents at length . When we washed off our beauty treatment our skin was smooth as silk. It is among one of my favorite memories as an (adult) that include my brother Raymond . I am going to call him now to see if he still recalls Though I know what the answer will be. For I know it was as cathartic for him As it was I found for me