I Grow Weeds Now

When I was young, I worked on the river. It was every day in the sun. I loved it.
I had a little adolescent acne, not bad, barely noticeable –
thought the sun was good for it,
and it was, for the most part.
Clear skin, little bit of a burn now and then,
got the girl and came home with the end-of-summer tan.

Now a little older (okay, yeah, maybe much older),
I dream about the river, the memories take me there.
It's almost every night in the sun.
But in the morning,
in the mirror I can see a crop of weeds, there on my skin.

My botanist Doc calls them “actinic keratosis.”
I get a new crop every year.
He gave me herbicide I must apply, two times a day.
It will take several weeks to get down to the roots –
maybe even kill a seed or two sewn down deep by that sun so many years ago.

He thinks it's good for me, and for the most part, it is.
Clear skin after a little burn and some peeling, got the girl and came home with the end-of-working day ham.
But as the sun and river knows, every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
So, I’ll just have to wait for the dreams that come from
applying herbicide as a consequence to my time in the sun.

Loren M. Lambert © November 14, 2013