I once sold weed
to a man who called himself
Uncle Bob.
He was a craggy faced
day laborer
with a bum foot
necrotic with diabetes
I went to his house
to drop off a bag
and saw he had
pinned to his wall
a confederate flag.
What the fuck is that?
I asked him
What the fuck is that
flag doing up there?
He mumbled something
about liking the south
even though we were
in Connecticut.
You oughta take that
fucking thing down,
I told him
I ain’t gonna come back here
if I see that fucking thing again.
Wouldn’t you know it
the next time I sold him a bag
the flag was gone.
🏁 Mick Theebs was once the Poet Laureate of Milford, CT. In addition to poetry, Mick also writes fiction, satire, and even some non-fiction. More poems can be found in his book Somnambulist and on his website www.micktheebs.com.
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