Poems and other Writing

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    More poems in poem/photo couplets.

    All poems and drafts: ©Kim McNealy Sosin

    The Rural Rain Cafe
             Morning Thoughts with Coffee

    Morning, Alma, guys. Coffee smells good!
             Whoa, Alma, I'm thinking sexy short skirt today!
    Hey, Bob, pull up a chair.
             You guys stop smirking!
    Alma, more coffee and a sugar donut.
             Dear god, I need a rest from these guys.
    Bob's here now, the tips will roll in.
             Right, he's as tight as the rest of you.
    How about a warm-up all around?
             I want to get this over with in one trip!

    Morning, Mike, Jack, how's it going?
             Random gods of weather messing with you again?
    Not bad, we got 50 hundreds last night.
             Thank you god, rain at last!
    Really, that much east of town?
             Damn, why is my farm always left out?
    We only got 10 hundreds.
             My usual bad luck; everything is in that farm.
    Mike, did it rain north of town?

    Yeah, gauge read 70 hundreds.
             Lucky bastard!
    Wow, that's wonderful!
             Shit, why wasn't that on my farm?
    Nah, I mean it could be, but
             Listen, you guys, I'm not OK with this.
    I'm still planting, don't need the mud.
             Friggin' rain gods never get this right.
    Junior has to go back to school tomorrow.
             So he won't have fight this farm for life.
    I won't have any help.

    Oh, I forgot your boy's in college.
             I wish mine was smart enough to get out of here.
    So, how's your wife?
             Word around town, she's dying.
    She's not well at all, Doc can't figure it out.
             I've never been so scared!
    Looks like we'll take her to the Med Center.
             What if they keep her, hook up tubes, never comes home?
    Ah, I'm really sorry to hear that.
             Shit, I wish I hadn't mentioned that.

    Do you think it will rain again tonight?
             Whew, good question, and just in time!
    Nah, we're probably cooked for a while.
             Cooked dry, wrung dry, always on that knife edge.
    Last summer was almost a drought.
             Every damn year this land is dry except for when it floods.
    Yeah, except for that one weekend.
             And damned if that downpour didn't ruin my new planting.
    There's Jim; hey Jim, did you get rain last night?