The Last Pickle in the Jar




Look at that,
the last pickle in the jar,
resting on the bottom,
out of reach of my fingers.

I tilt the jar to the side,
to almost,
turning it up side down,
it slides within reach.

Fishing it out,
with my thumb
and index finger…
I take a bite,
of dill pickle.

Now it has me,
about another time,
seems long ago
and then like yesterday.

When I was a child,
I could reach right in,
with an unwashed hand
and fetch that pickle,
right off the bottom.

Would smack it,
right in my mouth,
giving it a quick bite,
wiping juice from my lips,
with the back of my hand.

I wonder,
about that time,
so long ago,
then like yesterday;
I wonder,
if Dill Pickles,
were sweeter then.


© James W. McRight Jr.  2001