Fresh Eggs Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Fresh eggs

On the way, Drayton
On the Road eleven
Fuel low; I was lost
I stopped; on mower
(Which is loud)
She, young girl
In full and long dress
A surely backward one
To the ones in Paris
(Champs-Elysées)

My smile
This devil that attracts most women
Successful, did its work
She, sort of mesmerized
(As if ice in the sun)

I start
My question obvious
The distance to city and fuel.

“Do not know; I’m hired and …”

Excused she goes and comes with boss.
A woman with a child hung on side
In same age, very young
In her teens,
With baby looks monkey.

She too, nice
Mennonite.

She knows all
No make-up, no trace of a hair being plucked,
From face.

I thank them; look at sign
Meat and eggs, I question the price
“Two and half for dozen.”
I order two dozens, lost in thoughts…
“Who works hard, who harvests benefits, in cities? ”