We have a painting,
Of Popeye
The Sailor Man.
It has a red mat,
A black frame,
You see him in the middle,
With his pipe.
His eyes squint
I wonder if he can see.
He is a modern man you know.
Doesn’t worry about diet,
Or exercise.
He likes to take something,
When he needs a little
Pick Me Up.
I walked a field
With a Friend.
He has grown in the Valley
For a long time.
A self-made guy.
He had three million in the ground
But he couldn’t sell it.
Couldn’t bare to disc it either.
So it still grows, wild and gnarly now.
It is all my friend has.
Not counting a note due the bank.
He has that too.
My friend came to the house.
And we played with the kids.
Under Popeye and his pipe.
Smoke signals in the air.
What do they say?
Can Popeye see?
I’ve looked at this painting since my son was born.
Five years ago.
How is it I never saw,
The tear swelling from his eye?
By Jim Prevor