Digging Up Dirt
He claimed he cleaned
his gutters of summer's silt,
said he scooped it
like sandbox ice cream,
stirred it like coarse quartz dregs
used in gravel coffee. I bet
he even imagined it
in primary colored plastic cups,
and wanted to serve it
to those more naive than me.
Diligent in doing detail work, he thought
he could make it
tacky enough to stick to his target
with what he could scrape and shape
with cunning hands
and a pinch of pressure.
But when he flung
the black muck
and it stuck
to the back
of my jacket
I simply
took it off,
looked at him and smiled.
He had no idea
what he was doing.
.