Poem- I Saw a Plum Growing on the Side of the Road

I saw a plum growing on the side of the road. The kind
only birds plant. Twisted around a fence, where no one, ever,
will ever pick a fruit. They’re in bloom again,
must be spring. The plums have a kind of
 mischievous charm to them. I like that. Full of
indecision and exuberance,
     much like the young.
Half
in bloom, half putting forth leaves, still
red
     with the kind of delicate skin,
lush and flushed, before
they callus up with time. That green we love so much,
and take for granted.

Soon they’ll start making fruit
with a kind of industrial efficiency
 born directly from a will to live.
They’ll be the small ones with a big pit, sour perhaps.
That’s what happens, you know,
when they escape from cultivation.
I’ve heard people say
that they’re not really good for eating.
What a waste, on the side of a freeway.

Bullshit.
Birds eat them all the time.



Friday, 2/17/12
Fremont