Jersey
The man planted and watered the garden,
like he did always in his weathered dungarees, as he told the girl
no,
no to a day down the shore...
The phlox and peonies thirsted for his touch, screaming for the tilt of the watering can.
The girl stood at the screen door, mid summer New Jersey heat sweltered at her bare feet,
she clutched a glass of whiskey while he whistled at his pink and yellow crop.
Raindrop tears rolled off her chin, dissolving with the trail of salt into the booze, her black lace nightgown glued to her thin body.
The bees circled his flowers, not caring for tears or indifference.
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