
The Fire Men

The Price of Eggs
We wanted our white shoes on the asphalt, unmuddied
by floodwaters
licking the rim of river
banks, we wanted our houses
enclosed with polite fences & leaf-blown
yards of authoritarian grass,
we wanted the dreams
but didn’t want the dandelions
growing wild with delighted bees,
we wanted the candy-red strawberries
but didn’t want the brown
hands that picked them,
we wanted a photo of us
looking happy & free
surrounded by beautiful things,
we wanted white eggs & white fences
holding in the bone-ash hills,
we walked the smooth sidewalk
in our new shoes through
the quiet neighborhood,
blood in our tracks
all the way home.
***
Author photograph courtesy of Ansel Elkins