Here is November 1, poem of the month:
"Snacking by the Mile"
When we traveled to Birch Creek,
Rainy Creek, Kilgore,
or even out of state on occasion,
we packed an arsenal
of goodies, mostly candy and sucky things
my dad liked. He said he needed them
to stay awake during the long drives
or even short drives. I thought it odd,
but we joyfully joined in—
enjoyed the chocolate chips cookies,
the candy corns, or the round pink mints
that some of us thought were made from Pepto-Bismol,
potato chips, licorice, taffy,
and a host of other things
stuffed full of sugar. We didn’t mind.
We snacked by mile, not caring
about future dentist visits
or whether diabetes would intrude our lives.
In fact, we didn’t care, or maybe we didn’t know,
at least at that moment.
We were just kids climbing hills,
singing songs, enjoying the wind crashing
through the open windows,
our introduction to air conditioning.
We just cruised and snacked all the way
to the campsite where we disembarked,
scattered across the campground,
staking our claim down by the creek,
setting up camp, building a fire,
and preparing for the night
when we could lean back
in our sleeping bags with the 36” pieces
of thick red licorice, dangling from our lips
and dreaming of more, understanding
that snacking while driving was our destiny.
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