My husband, if he comes, will bring raw milk.
The stuff they sell in stores I wouldn’t feed
our pigs. We’re renting; sort of like a work
exchange. We only have a hundred head
and they belong to Mr. Peterson.
But all the calves are ours. He only wants
the milk and us to keep the place until
it’s sold. I hope it doesn’t bother you
to look at me; but while I’m camping, well
it hurts to wear my wig. My husband bought
it. See, my hair just doesn’t seem to grow
as quickly over steel as over bone.
The doctor said I was suppose to stay
in bed; but bed is boring, lonely too;
so I convinced my husband I could rest
while camping just as well as I could rest
at home. We spent our honeymoon right here.
I hadn’t camped before but with the cost
of everything and being out of work,
my husband thought that this would be the best
that we could do. And as it happened, he
was right. We camped beside the stream. I loved
the time we were together, here. You sure
it doesn’t bother you to look at me?