Tuesday, April 3, 2007

Topic: potatoes

I wrote about peeling them years ago, a day when I needed help.
That day a bird hit the picture window in front of my nose, and
cars stopped on the road and I imagined a reunion.

I never cook potatoes, but I miss the way they feel, pearly
red skins in dusty boxes, slimy when you wash them, so much power,
sprouting eyes without water or light.

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