Key West: The Cantankerous Citrus (A Poem)

Lenny the Key lime tree

is most always a prick;

insists I call him Leonard,

when being a dick.

He’s skinny and scrawny,

thorny and lean;

grotesquely anti-social,

he even looks mean.

“If you expect,” he says,

“to get some of these,

then prune me, water me;

I’ll give what I please.”

“Hey, come move me!

I need lots of light!”

the thorny bastard barks,

till I get it just right.

What the hell, Leonard?

Why always so dour?

“Duh, dumb ass. It’s how

I make the limes sour.”

~gj dürrschmidt

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The Orangenous Zone