Seven-year-old Isabella Thompson pressed her hands into the cool, moist dirt of her grandfather's garden. She peeled away the surface like an old scab. Beneath, a reddish-brown earthworm squirmed – ... [+]
I slipped into some rusty overalls to go
parading around town and when I came home
sputtering evening with coal in my hair
my wife said, You're not my husband, you're a train
and who was I to disagree?
So I went to the rail yard,
had a good sleep, and towed three tons
of bricks to Bismarck,
for which the locals were quite grateful.