I once knew a girl named Ginnifer Green,
whose hands were like a pair of Buddhas.
Somewhere, she had a switch, always “On,”
so you never knew if you were going to the
movies, or over the fence to steal rotten fruit.
We’d get buzzed until we could hardly stand
it — that enervating joy of being what we
were. I’m sure I’ve had better things to eat,
now that I’m an adult and can afford the
luxury of discernment. But Ginnifer’s smile
is something I can never have again, and
that was a sweet world, in our boozy spit.
What would I trade to once again be out
on Ginnifer’s white driveway, toeing the
gravel? That laugh. That flash of teeth.
For NaPoWriMo, Day 5. The prompt was to write a Golden Shovel, which is a bitch of a form, let me tell you. Here’s the poem I worked from:
Watermelons
Green Buddhas
On the fruit stand.
We eat the smile
And spit out the teeth.
— Charles Simic
Do you see what I did?
Marilyn Rauch Cavicchia 
I love it. I don’t know the form, but I love the way you played it. This is a gorgeous, bittersweet memory that is beautifully written.
Thanks so much, Liesl! I was intimidated by the form at first, but this is certainly a case where a poem emerged that never would have existed without the challenge of that form.
Nice to find a kindred spirit…same blog theme and mutual feeling for this form! I like that you gave us Ginnifer with a ‘G,’ hopping fences.
Thanks, Angie! I’ll check out your blog, too. I love this theme, except for one thing — do you find that you have to type your poems here in WordPress, or they won’t display properly? Kind of a bummer. As for Ginnifer, I don’t know where she came from, except that the weird form forced some inventiveness, which is why they’re often a good exercise for me even though they don’t seem to be at first.
Thanks for the look-see and follow. I look forward to keeping up with your work.