Harmonyville

Wild peas and poppies,

purple, green, and gold,

edge the blazing pavement.

Red-winged blackbirds

twitter in the reeds.

Five men watch

a backhoe eat

the farm house

across the road.

The sun is molten

chrome. Mack pedals

slowly, his back tire

is getting low. He’ll be

walking soon.

A crow picks at

the fallen cherries

that dot the road.

They never ripened

on the tree.

Mack dismounts

his bike, looks for any

fruit that he can salvage.

The crow scolds him

from the skeletal branches

of the dead orchard.

A woman in a dusty truck

slows down to his pace.

Calls out the window,

-Need a lift?

-Yes, thanks very much,

where you headed?

-Harmony. Just toss

your bike in back.

-Is there a place

where I can get

something to eat?

-Not much since the cafe

and the grocery closed,

but don’t worry, I’ve

got some laying hens

and my trees ain’t dead yet.

-Thank you, that's very kind

of you. I’m Mack.

-Nice to meet you, Mack,

I’m Lisa, but people call me Red.

-Nice to meet you……Red.

Mack looks at the mess

of black curls tied loosely

behind her head. Lisa

notices his puzzled face.

Yeah, it isn’t because

of my hair. Folks think

I’m some kind of commie

because I never did go along

with what they thought I should.

A jack rabbit darts out

from a ditch beside the road,

sees the truck and tries

to double back. Bad timing,

there’s thud as the truck

hits it mid jump.

Lisa looks up at the mirror

and eases to a stop.

-Guess what we’ll be

having for dinner, you

like rabbit, Mack?

-Yeah, sure, been a while

since I had lapin a la cocotte.

-Well this ain’t gonna be that!

I’m thinking lapin a la fried.

-Sounds good to me.