Carlâ€™s wife sits shotgun in his truck
Her doughy face baked whitish red.
He gets out and climbs the semiâ€“
Smiling, he asks â€œHowâ€™s it going?â€
We just grunt and nod our heads
atÂ the auger hole, and how itâ€™s stuck.
â€œBetter you than me, boys,â€ he says.
â€œIâ€™m enjoying Sunday off.
Got a beer and my old lady.
It ainâ€™t much, butÂ itâ€™s enough.â€
Bill and me look at each other;
Heâ€™s the type to make a crack.
Meâ€“I just want to get this load done.
Weâ€™ve got 18 miles to drive back.
â€œYour wife, she sure is lookinâ€™ sweet,â€
Bill saysâ€“I donâ€™t pay him no mind.
Carlâ€™s wife smiles, then she says thank you.
â€œYou ever seen her walk the streets?â€
Carl asks, all innocent.Â â€œFrom behind
Looks like two hogs fightinâ€™ under a sheet.â€
Carlâ€™s wife laughs, she likes attention.
BackhandedÂ flattered, andÂ it shows.
Her flabby arm hangs out the window
What attracts him, God only knows.
â€œHave you lost weight since I last saw you?â€
Bill asks, and then he calls her â€œDear.â€
â€œNaw,â€ Carl says, â€œsheâ€™s like the State Fairâ€“
Bigger and better every year.â€
We see her laugh, sheâ€™s missing one tooth.
Itâ€™s clear sheâ€™s heard this joke before.
Old Sam arrives to check our progressâ€“
Itâ€™s hisÂ dough that weâ€™re wasting now.
He kicks aÂ dead mouse out the barn door
As we prepare to tell untruths.
â€œHowdy,Â Carl,â€ Sam says surprised
to see his foreman in the bay.
â€œI give you the day off and what do you do?
You just canâ€™t tear yourself away.â€
â€œYou know my wife, Earleneâ€“right Sam?â€
Carl says with somewhat misplaced pride.
â€œI donâ€™t believe Iâ€™ve had the pleasure.â€
Can he be pleased by one so wide?
They talk of things, while in the trailer
Bill and I unclog the jam.
The fescue seed begins to flow
As if from out a hydro dam.
Carl takes his leave, with mock regret.
â€œSorry to see you break a sweat,
Iâ€™ll keep a cold beer waiting,â€ he says,
â€œIn case I havenâ€™t drunk it yet.â€
Carl starts his truck, Sam farts around,
He sticks his hand into the seed.
â€œThis stuffâ€™s too wet, itâ€™s gotÂ to dry out,
A day in windrows is what it needs.â€
Sam stands up straight to watch them go.
â€œThat little peckerwoodâ€™s a card.
Before too long theyâ€™ll have them six kids
And a beat-upÂ truck in their front yard.
â€œI know that it ainâ€™t none of my business,
where ole CarlÂ puts his prick.
But for me, I know one thing;
Them Bohunk women sure go to pot quick.â€
Weâ€™re silent, Bill and I, for once,
as we attempt to take this in.
Itâ€™s true, of course, thereâ€™s no denying,
and yet to say it seems a sin.
Happy the man, and happy the mate
Who care not what the world may say.
Hereâ€™s to the two whose matches are fewâ€“
May theyÂ find love onÂ Valentineâ€™s Day.