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POEM: pineapples

pineapples

pineapples grow on our pine trees
here where the birds sit atop the stoplights
singing Hank Williams songs
our dogs know how to count
some even understand English
and while you may have to drive forty miles
to buy whisky and beer
when you get there, the package store
will be playing Marvin Gaye
or Smokey Robinson & The Miracles
and when you get back
there’ll be a blanket on the grass
and laughter in the air

7 April 2013
Auburn AL

Published in Auburn My poems Poem-A-Day 2013 Poetry

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