Mowing Fargo
Rick Mows!
by Rick Lupert
Free Sample Poems

Section 1: Fargo, North Dakota
In which a young boy who’s not so young if you were to check his identification which you should do just to be safe travels to the Norwegian stronghold where Americans, Canadians, Jews, and the insane live together mainly through means of the exchange of third party checks.

More Flags Than Normal

There are Five American Flags
in front of the Fargo, North Dakota Airport.
This is in case
one of them breaks
or you forget
you're not in Canada
anymore.

A Lot of Salsa

At Juano's mexican food restaurant in Fargo
the waitress brought so many bowls of salsa
we had to finish our lunch in Minnesota.

Section 2: The Kobrinskys
In which the author, previously a young boy, tells the tales of the members of the often benevolent and deliciously insane Kobrinsky family who he lived with on one of their many waterbeds in their house on the Red River, which serves to keep Minnesota out of Fargo, North Dakota.

The Second Floor Kobrinsky Toilet

No one ever flushes
the second floor Kobrinsky toilet.
The floating horrors
one finds become less surprising
as the days progress
and the Kobrinsky boys
mill about in the hallway
bumping into each other muttering
It's not me
It's not me

Nathan Kobrinsky

The waitress asks Nathan Kobrinsky
if he would like anything to drink.
"Life Insurance,"
says Nathan Kobrinsky.

Section 3: Christina
In which the author, now an attractive young man, and nice Jewish Boy, woos an attractive young girl, who in turn woos him back which leads to a great deal of co-wooing in five of the woo-iest days and nights you can imagine.

Prairie Hospitality

You are driving me through the Prairie,
gravel roads
fields of harvestables
and the occasional structure
made by human beings.
I am miles from anything I know
and even farther from home.

You have worked this land,
know it intimately.
So when you stop the car
(In the middle of somewhere, I'm sure)
and say "I think we should make out now"
I can only assume
it's the right thing to do.

Remembering How To Shower

Thirty years showering by myself
You'd think I'd remember how to do it
But back home
after five days with you
I stare at the soap
wondering how to apply it
without your hands

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