kids

Relfelctions on a Gift
of a Watermelon Pickle
Received from a Friend
called Felicity

During that summer
When unicorns were still possible;
When the purpose of knees
Was to be skinned;
When shiny horse chestnusts
aaaaaaa(Hollowed out
aaaaaaawith straws
aaaaaaaCrammed with tobacco
aaaaaaaStolen from butts
aaaaaaaIn family ashtrays)
Were puffed in green lixard silence
While straddling thick branches
Far above and away
From the softening effects
Of civilisation

During that summer ---
Which may never have been at all;
But which has become more real
Than the one that was ---
Watermelons ruled.

Thick pink imperial slices
Melting frigidly on sun-parched tongues
Dribbling from chins;
Leaving the best part,
The black bullet seeds,
To be spit out in rapid fire
Against the wall
Against the wind
Against each other;

And when the ammunition was spent,
There was always another bite:
It was a summer of limitless bites,
Of hungers quikcly felt
And quickly forgotten
With the next careless gorging.

The bites are fewer now.
Each one is savored lingeringly,
Swallowed reluctantly.

But in a jar put up by Felicity,
The summer which maybe never was
Has been captured and preserved.
And when we unscrew the lid
And slice off a piece
And let it linger on our tongue:
Unicorns become possible again.

John Tobias