Did you ever experience
a white-hot August day
when you were out a fixin' fence,
or, maybe haulin' hay?
Your skin will start to burnin'.
Your mouth gets awful dry.
Your eyes get kinda blurry,
and you'd swear your brain will fry.
Then, an idea glimmers.
It grows and starts to hatch.
Why not pay a visit
to the neighbor's melon patch?
You crawl through the bob wire,
and then you sneak on in.
Lust for watermelon
blinds your eyes to sin.
Just a thumpin' and a checkin'.
you wander all about.
You don't take no shortcuts
to pick a good one out.
A fine, big ripe Black Diamond
gets ripped loose from the vine.
Just make it to a shade tree,
an' you'll be doin' fine.
You haul your bounty through the fence
and settle in the shade.
Your knife comes from your pocket.
an' you plunge in the blade.
She cracks an' pops as you cut the rind.
Then, you lay her open.
Red and juicy, perfect ripe,
just like you were hopin'.
You squat there 'neath that shade tree
in the johnsongrass and weeds.
juice a runnin' down your chin
an' spittin' out the seeds.
No one knows but you and God
as you carve and take your fillin'.
It really ain't a major crime,
takin' just one melon.
But, dang your conscience anyhow.
You wasn't raised that way.
You know you'll tell 'um what you done
and offer then to pay.
Editor's note: Joe Kreger writes from his home in Tonkawa, Oklahoma. This poem appears in his book, "Lookin' At Life." His books and CDs are
available from the Journal by calling 1-800-954-5263. For personal appearance information, call 1-816-452-3513.
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