AFTER THE CROPS DIED: DIEWITHTHEMOSTLIKES #108

our crops died a few years back or decades depending on who you ask or maybe they never really grew dutifully wilting to the blade they worshiped and succumbing to their manicured height and the inevitability of joining the dust that seemed to eat the town but we didn’t mind too much because they were easier to pull having never lived and we didn’t feel much when they left us and now and again we wondered where they went sometimes we couldn’t tell at all and sometimes those tending our protrusions would lie in the shade they made and talk to them about losing the farm or the rain water we didn’t drink or the regret they sowed in our leaves and we wondered if the harvest would stop someday or if we would continue to feed people who had stopped eating around the time the crops died