The Taste Of Dirt Poem by Lee Crowell

as I eat these grapes
and taste the dirt
I realize they should have been washed
so goes the effect
of alcohol on the brain
and thus I plop another one down
dirt and all
and oh yes
they should have been washed
some fool has neglected this
in my stupor
from the kitchen chair
with glazed eyes I stare at the refrigerator
visualizing the remaining grapes
where they sit on the shelf in there
a coating of dust at the back of my throat
I vow that the person responsible for grape washing
is going to pay for this