Back Yard

We had a small garden once.

It was April. Everyone
was planting tomatoes
where a basil plant died
the winter before. The sun was full
when they started, so I figured I’d watch
for a while from my hole
behind the garage.

It was two feet long, five feet wide
and really deep; invisible.
The perfect view of gardeners
and bad guys.

Dad was splashing dirt
on everyone’s faces when I heard something
behind me. No one was there,
but when I turned back
a bearded face
was in the garage window.

He didn’t say anything
and I wasn’t scared of him.
We just stared
at each other.
He was wearing a brown suit,
with a tie and vest.

My sister saw me staring
and came over. He smiled
at her. We both started
for the garage door,
but he snapped his fingers
at me and shook his head,
like he was in pain.
Of course when she got there
he was gone.

To this day, I can’t eat tomatoes
and basil together.
I couldn’t tell you why.
They just taste wrong.

Added: April 2, 2013 | Last changed: June 7, 2014