There's trouble growing in the garden
As the carrots make fun of those that are green
The potatoes are keeping their eyes out
Staring down those bleeding heart beets

Leaves of spinach are flexing their muscles
And of course the corn are all ears
Broccoli is green with envy
With the onions always in tears

The rhubarb has a thing for the strawberries
Can't seem to get along with anyone else
New to the winter garden which has the vegies talking
Not sure this frost will ever melt

The asparagus has been here forever
And the pole beans are always vaulting the fence
The lima's are out searching for the wisdom of the succotash
As the lettuce wonders where its head went

Yes there's trouble growing in the garden
Like we haven't all seen this before
The only time they get along is flash frozen and packaged
Chilling behind the grocer's freezer door

I haven't seen a passenger train roll on through town
for near two year now.
Plenty of freight moves, stopping traffic at intervals.
They carry illegal art on their exterior
for-all-to-see. Even for those who never look.

Christmas this year is cool, green and sunny. The freezer is full and times have been worse. I walked this morn crossing paths with a couple of dog owners out doing what dogs do.

The gifts have been given and the race to the table will be around six. Smoked, baked ham and vegies. You are what you eat or something along that line.

A starry night is forecast and I will venture out and about and around this tiny train town. I'm sure to don winter-wear and crunch the salt that be liberally applied to the concrete walk-way.

a new piece to my mothers
puzzle....
rather frank and bewildering conversations.

this one regarding ***...
one will admit....
very disconcerting over a breakfast of muesli and cheerio's

her  " your father enjoyed ***, me not as much, i often
just lay there and let him get on with it...it was over quickly enough"

me  reeling internally,
you must understand my mother, the epitome of the straitlaced woman,
sent me to the doctor,
with a group of my peers for 'the talk'.

"oh, um...did you see the whales"

her  " he never forced me tho, he was polite not just any good at it all fumbling and grunting...i don't think
i orgasmed once"

me   * dumbstruck

her*  " after he left, i only had *** once more,
it was so much better...
it was as much about me,
as him.
i orgasmed then...
it was nice.....
but he was married."

me .... who?

her " i suppose it doesn't matter now.
mr clement, bob,
he used to bring the rabbits
and vegies from the farm.

me  "oh.... him" remembering a short statured,  swarthy man
with a kind nature...
and big hands

her  "after that...
i did for myself,
much easier allround..
*** is important in a marriage....good for communicating.
you and ben,
seem to do alright .......

me  " thanks for breakky
mum must get on."

i am so very sure,
i don't want to discuss
my sexlife, as good and rich as it may be.....
with my up till now, prudish
85 year old mother...

even if she,
finally,
wants to talk to me,
about ***..

just way too....disconcerting.

I tightened the circle
let the lines loosen,
then in my state of confusion
pulled them tightly.

I subtracted loved ones nightly,
despite my social media
connections
my real-life affections
became whispers in
the distance from
previous family members
and friends I’ve loved.

With a noose I constricted
till it was too perfect.
Then I ****** it.
It was like when
I was biting
my tongue
just hard enough to hurt
but not enough to cut
that slippery tool off.

I choked and cough
felt the loss
as I tried to break
my own neck.
I signed my own check,
by happily self-secluding,
and the excuse I was using
was the best scape goat.

As grief scraped my throat,
I tried to cleanse my palate
stirred my mind like a salad
all vegies and greens mixing,
lying and saying it was healthy
but really just tricking
myself into doing what
I was always going to do.

Death by a thousand losses,
each cut cost me
a fraction of my identity
and hopeful personality.

Until my corpse
swung from the rafters
and tears sprung from
melancholic laughter.

Then nothing came
happily, ever after.