A poem for my friend. Just cuz.
“I don’t like vegetables,” Sally sneered
looking like a first-grader
Her grandparents had a farm and a dry-goods store
Sally did not partake
She spared her children the trials of brussels sprouts
the tribulations of runaway squash
Yet they learned somehow to savor a salad
Their kids—her grandkids—raised free from sugar,
hormone-tainted milk, the injustice of white flour,
bound up Sally’s front porch steps
devour her hot apple pie,
fresh from McDonald’s.
