a logo in the middle of nowhere
attracting the business of nothing
as a series of decisions are made to
profit from the viscera of remains
piled into a makeshift graveyard
that can be seen from the sky
as a bumblebee buzzes overhead
searching for a petal to perch
in the middle of nowhere,
lest it take its business elsewhere,
to see a thorough examination of a fascinating artform
torn asunder
from its market
No one stopped Paul from claiming to be the Radish King. He didn’t necessarily expect heavy resistance from claiming the title, but he certainly didn’t expect no resistance at all.
He bought one farm after another, slowly creating a radish empire that had no rival. It usually never really mattered what the land was used for previously. Paul always repurposed his property to grow more and more radishes.
At one point, it took days of traveling for Paul the Radish King to travel from one end of his property to the next. He no longer had any neighbors.
A representative from the government came to see him. He asked Paul why he needed so much land. To which he replied, “For radishes.”
“I don’t think that many people are eating radishes.”
“I am.”
“So, this is all for personal use?”
“I guess you could say that. I grow and eat radishes.”
Paul was left alone after that visit. No one wanted to question the Radish King of his domain. He sat atop a mountain of radishes readying themselves to bloom from the ground.
melatonin stopped working a few months ago,
so I thought it might be best to drink a lot of beer each night,
but that only made me burp,
after feeling bloated for several hours,
and wishing I could just be asleep,
though I suppose lots of trazodone will help me sleep,
too much and I won’t ever have to wake
Fred Aiken Writing 