Eating A Radish At 11:15 AM On A Tuesday in May

I sink to my knees

next to the radish patch

because I am too old

to bend over and pull them.

As I remove each one from the patch,

I place them in a small sea shore bucket

full of cold water.

Taking my Swiss Army knife

out of my jeans’ front pocket,

I open it and reach for a radish.

Between my thumb and forefinger,

I rub the dirt off it.

Cutting off the top greens

and the white tail,

I place it in my mouth

and bite down.

The unique taste is,

sweet and spicy,

like our first kiss.

I still have the birthday knife

but I’ve lost you.