We moved to the country, my wife and I,
to get closer to the truth.
But all we found were fast food joints.
It was a disappointment.
But we faced it like true pioneers;
we ignored the hazards and
planted acres of okra, bitter melons,
and reindeer lichen.
The reindeer came in vast herds to our land;
they browsed contentedly --
and Amy and I knew our own contentment
for the first time in many years.
But then a lightning storm came out of the West
and killed or maimed all the reindeer.
The ones left alive fled in terror.
They have never returned.
The lichen all turned to useless prairie kelp.
The seed catalog said that okra
restores youthful vigor in lovemaking.
We planted a lot of it.
But we forgot that in our part of the country
it can snow in late May.
And it did.
And the okra never came up at all.
The field turned first to mud
and then to spindly weeds that
even the crows avoided.
We had much better luck with
the bitter melon.
It thrived, even during drought.
The grasshoppers, thrips, and Mormon crickets
left it strictly alone.
So we harvested many tons
with our old John Deere tractor and trailer.
To sell at bonanza prices to China.
Then Trump screwed things up with China.
And the COVID 19 put us out of business.
We had to sell the land back to the bank,
which in turn sold it to Cargill --
they now raise strange GMO things on the land:
stirrup-shaped mushrooms that attract biting midges;
corn that drips turpentine;
mud skippers that they market as free range chicken.
And they harvested our field of prairie kelp and distilled
it into an artisan vodka that everyone drinks in Manhattan.
Amy started to drink it, too, to blunt the pain.
Now we live in a small town, the county seat, and run the only pawn shop in the entire county. We are very popular.
Everyone relies on us to get them through the hard months.
The hard months are November through August.
We take all our meals at McDonald's.
Amy wants to move to Canada.
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