(An International Journal of Poetry)
Volume-1 June-2011 Number-1
by Jennifer C. Wolfe
I saw the creased white business card
Lying in the sand of the parking lot:
It looked as though it had been run over
By tires immersed in fresh tar.
“Flowers and Friends,” its name stared
Up at me in neat, black letters.
I stared at the card, mesmerized by
Thoughts of childhood zoo conservatory trips.
As a summer wind rifled through my hair,
I pondered how long it had been,
Since someone had arrived at my doorstep,
Holding flowers clenched in their hand.
My last bouquet had been an apologetic,
Rumpled assortment from the local supermarket;
It reminded me of yellow dandelions
Intermingled with pink cake frosting roses.
I thought it looked somewhat pricey,
Especially when lovelier wildflowers
Could just have easily been picked
Along the side of the road for free