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making neighbors
my sister and i loved to roll down the side windows and holler
smarty pants remarks about the ramshackle house and tin sheds
where those ratty welch kids lived every time my mother drove
past their place at ninth avenue and hover road on our way
to school then on our way back to the farm
the welches kept goats and everybody said goats were stupid and ate tin cans
far as i was concerned tin cans were for sorting marbles catching crawdads
or saving up bent nails i could straighten for my dad to use for fixing things
way out from town on our old dirt road friends were hard to come by but
we never tried to hook up with the welch kids cuz they had snotty noses
and my mom said they probly had to drink goat milk
when my little brother was born my mom tried to nurse him
but he got eczema so bad she had to tie his hands to the rails on his crib
to keep him from scratching his skin off so she tried feeding him fresh milk
from my dad’s holstein cows but his itching got worse
so my folks had to drive him all the way to denver
and just leave him there in children’s hospital for special tests
after a week of worry the specialist said the only thing he could recommend
to relieve that poor baby’s misery would be to try goat’s milk
but it might be hard to find and it might cost more than regular formula
those were WWII ration days and spending a penny was like wasting blood
but nobody was about to take the chance my baby brother might scratch himself
to death if he fought his fingers free from those awful tie-downs on his crib
my dad said sometimes a guy has to make neighbors where he never figured
so off we drove to ninth and hover where the welch kids hid behind the sheds
mom stayed in the car so the old billy goat could not eat her wedding band
mrs welch was kindly when she asked if we’d come for eggs
she said most folks came out from town for the big brown ones
my dad told her we farm right down the road then he waved his hand north
mercy yes she said i shoulda recanize yer plymouth maybe you remember mr
welch tried to work beets for ya a few years ago but you had a crew a wetbacks
my dad didn’t remember but he said yes ma’am i’m so sorry ma’am
all the cutie kid goats were tickling my nose and trying to nibble my fingers
do yer goats eat tin i asked then ducked my head afraid my father might turn red
then send me shameful and trembling to the car and we might not get the milk
mrs welch laughed a nice laugh just like miss donne my 3rd grade teacher
my father said our new baby boy is in desperate need of goat milk
and it seemed like a dozen welch kids’ faces came peeking out to stare at us
the tallest skinniest boy stepped forward proudly to announce
i milk em twiced a day then six other skinny kids backed him up with big grins
and clapped or banged on tin cans and bucket lids like they were just as proud
mrs welch asked if we might have some hand-me-downs for her little ones
maybe we could bargain milk for proper clothes she couldn’t buy
mercy heavens she said for that precious baby boy why have neighbors
if you cain’t share what you got in days like these now clinton you skidaddle
an share these good folk a coffee can a bessie’s mornin milk but please sir
nex time you bring yer own tin can an please sir bring some underpants
fer these youngsters they ain had none since mr welch got called up to fight
ya know a decent woman cain’t sen um fer school a-stinkin like a billy goat
The Poet Spiel was born in Colorado on May 15, 1941. He was brought up with solid farm principles during the unsettling years of World War II with the expectation that he would become the fourth generation of a homestead farm family. Spiel was taught American values through his Congregational Sunday School classes, the 4-H Club, and Boy Scouts of America. He was directed to believe the Great American Dream: that “Everything Will Turn Out OK.” But his blood was contrary at birth; as an artist and writer, his intense explorations of personal conflict and social consciousness proved otherwise. His most recent book is barely breathing, a ten years anthology of his poetry, published by March Street Press. Learn more about The Poet Spiel at his 5 page website: The Poet Spiel
Email: The Poet Spiel
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