Back of the House

The grass grows tall at the back of the house because that’s where grandpa urinates, he being too lazy to get to the outhouse. The little people used to hang out there, but now they’ve all gotten serious, studying computers and money management. The old dog comes around and sniffs. Don’t know whether he’s looking for a duck or diagnosing grandpa’s kidney problems. You can find a history of the people in the midden outside the kitchen window— broken dishes and old underwear. Tradesmen knock at the back door, and beggars looking for a piece of pie, but we try not to encourage them. I go out there to still my pride. My people are a careless tribe, leaving many lessons in their mistakes.