Cracked Corn
by Susan Wingate

it was the cracked corn
on the floorboard
in the cup holder
on the passenger seat and
scattered in the seams of the console
that irked you
that it was there at all
caused you grief and stress
slapped across your face
with a paintbrush dipped thick in disgust
if I'd had that chicken
you might never have seen
the corn but you said no
chickens, sheep and the cow
not to mention a
horse for the backyard
3 acres long and wide
you said I'd need a hoe to
clean out the car
I said I am the hoe, I am the hoe,
the rake, the spade
black-hearted not living up
or giving up
to your standard
and when I took my cracked popcorn car to the
cleaner who lifted out my seats
and sucked the evidence away
you got pissy
about the cost
in front of a zero-background-someone
on the topic we'd discussed two
nights back,
so . . .
i'm the hoe raking money out the bank
when suggested good manners to I leave a tip
by the blank-faced-onlooker
you did an Orville Reddenbacher and popped
just throwin' money into the wind
driving down the road with me and my
hoe hanging out the window
cracked corn trailing out the doors and crows following me
like I'm Peter-fuckin-Piper
and that hoe like a flag letting you know
i'm bought and paid for
the way you like it

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