southern Maryland 1979

it was

a warm and sticky southern

Maryland day,

down at the shore, picking heaps

of blue crab.

all the girls were blonde,

and 

fat, their legs red

in their dixie dukes and flip flops.

the men too, in their

tank tops,

sunburned and tattooed,

their father's boats

tied to the pier,

holding fishing rods.

the Allman brothers played

overhead,

as another bowl of hush

puppies arrived

and steamed

sweet corn, like logs rolling

around,

spilled onto the Baltimore Suns

daily news.

clear yellow beer in sweating

pitchers kept

coming.

the waitress shaking her head

and rolling her eyes.

another Hon?

we worked all day

until the moon came out,

with our wooden mallets

and pliers, our raw fingers,

dipping

small lumps of crab meat

into the paper tubs

of vinegar and butter.

exclaiming loudly when

a large chunk was removed

from a crusted leg,

hey, look at this one.

waving it proudly

with raucous applause

before going down.