WHAT I MISS THIS VERY MINUTE
WHAT I MISS THIS VERY MINUTE
Marijuana plants growing in my garden
which is now my husband’s garden,
but at one time it was mine.
The plants, two wee shoots
were started by a very intelligent, funny
and troubled comedian and contortionist.
The “Human Noodle” came at harvest time
and again, to strip and split the goodies
because those happy stalks of cannabis were co-owned.
The musky smell that wafted after spring rains
and summer’s humid days, sensual.
Pinching and massaging stems, erotic.
This is what I miss this very minute.
6 thoughts on "WHAT I MISS THIS VERY MINUTE"
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Love it! I remember those plants well. They were tall enough to see from the street. 😏
This nostalgia at the micro level!
I’m attuned to expect the (wonderful) comedy from you; this piece is, therefore, refreshing…I hear a different voice from you. I like this, Cathy…
It seems to me that this poem reflects a life of someone vibrant and unorthodox.
Love and feel the line, “Now, with the garden belonging to someone else and the “Human Noodle” presumably absent,”
I fight the turning of the page, vanished vitality, and camaraderie of my garden as well.
Cathy – we miss you at COA – come visit if you get a chance. Read this one to us. Okay – back to business.
Deliciously funny, Cathy, and yes, you are missed at CoA!
I love that and it is an inspiring prompt for me as well