Apples Stolen From Richard Brautigan
along highway 22 a cafe called Breakfast Nook
in the window a cardboard sign “Closed For The Season”
my hopes of eating before spring - dashed I continue southbetween Arcadia and Onekama
a roadside market at the edge of an orchard
trees loaded with unpicked apples limbs bowed
piles of pumpkins and squash on tables
I stop
a man in the tin-roofed shed asks
“what can we get for you?”
I want to ask him if he’s Richard Brautigan
because that’s who he looks like
but Richard Brautigan is dead
“I don’t want a bushel or a peck of apples” I tell him
“I want like 2 or 3 apples
and I don’t really want to buy any apples
I want to steal some apples
stolen apples are the best
but I’m too old for the county jail
so I want to pay for them first”
Richard Brautigan laughs
“I know what you mean” he says
“help yourself no charge
better hurry though it’s gonna rain”
later I’m home with my apples
just a pocket full
stolen from Richard Brautigan
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