A Tub of Potatoes
My grandmother used to say
don't marry for money
but stay open-minded.
She could squeeze a nickel
and make the buffalo feel light-headed;
she could make a dollar out of 15 cent.
Now she was a big woman;
ruled the family roost
with a simple look
and an iron skillet.
Many times I heard that skillet
go thunk!
Another suitor educated.
Another boyfriend righted.
She always took us kids aside
and whispered things like
'now see that'
I don't want you kids to grow up
and do things like that.'
There was the woman or man who did not
take care of the family;
the Boyfriend Rogue;
or the Gallivant,
who tipped behind his ladies back;
the dandy who dressed so well
but did not have two dimes to rub together
and slept in the park in a tent.
These were depression days
when traveling men
rode the rails
not sure of where they came from
not sure of where they went
and the women who
longed for them;
who waited
for them
listening
for train whistles
and stock yard
freights
hauling
into Chicago
from the mid-west.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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