PULL, TRACTOR, PULL…

his monster truck was stuck
in the miry muck of life
his wheels half buried
his face curried
in a suit of strife
out of nowhere
she did appear
all eyes turned she was riding
a pink john deere
she climbed down in her
zebra striped overalls
hitched a red rope to his truck
in preparation for the haul
back up to her tractor she did climb
ignoring the crowd as she stroked her combine
with her left hand she gave her dashboard a womanly pat
then rearranged the brim of her ol’ beat up straw hat
her baby fluttered and sputtered when she first turned the key
she backed up 12 inches, looking over her shoulder to see.
“PULL TRACTOR PULL” she gave the shout
the onlookers hooted and laughed with hilarious doubt
but silence fell when the pink tractor yanked the truck right out
she jumped back down to the ground
ignoring the crowd
the silence made the crunch of her boots overly loud
what the crowd saw next was not to be missed
she went, stood toe to toe with the guy and planted a big ol’ kiss
the silence was still thick like the aroma of a church bar-b-q
the man didn’t even kiss back, he didn’t know what to do
she drove off and some people say
she disappeared in a cloud of
pink dust on that day
from then on
all the mothers told their daughters to be open to life when you can
cause “PULL, TRACTOR, PULL ain’t always said by a man.


Comments

PULL, TRACTOR, PULL… — 4 Comments

  1. O Yolantha! The world is happy that the workings of your heart/mind can be viewed here; your gift of magical conjuring shared…. x0x0x0.

  2. Yolantha you are such a delightful, heart-felt person and writer. I wish you were a television that we could turn on and watch all day. I’d never turn the channel out of fear that I’d miss something I needed to learn… or something my spirit needed in order to be lifted higher…

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