appleback then, when the hills were too big

we walked our bikes to fire hydrant rest stops

where we ate tomatoes we swiped

from the Everly’s garden, apples from Old Man Cole’s tree

and strawberries, hot and sweet, from the pyramid beneath


back home, we waited for hot rubber hose water

until it ran cold, our bare feet in cool grass

then, we scrambled for the corner of the house

to formulate a lie, make up another story

much the same as the last


it’s funny today to remember how good

stolen fruit tastes when its eaten under hot sun,

bikes propped against our knees,

and the way hose water quenches thirst so well

once it runs cold—


and sad to see how we’re still hiding

in the bushes from the man

in the back door

Published by

Patrick Dobson

Patrick Dobson was founded in 1962. He is a writer, scholar, ironworker, and poet who lives in Kansas City, MO. He is author of two books with the University of Nebraska Press, Seldom Seen: A Journey into the Great Plains (2009) and Canoeing the Great Plains: A Missouri River Summer (May 2015). Dobson is a work in progress until termination.

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