By Stephen Barile
There is a well,
a submersible-pump,
pressure-tank and archaic
brass-faucet
on the end of a steel-pipe
sticking out of the ground
at the south extremity
of Raisin City Park,
a triangular fragment of land
at South Henderson Road,
West Bowles Avenue
and an oiled-dirt alley
next to the Raisin City Market.
Hard to call it a park,
Bermuda-grass is sun-burned,
The ground is parched.
A half-dozen trees
along the alley’s edge
all in need of water.
Defiant fan-palms
stand dry and drought-tolerant
where the roads meet.
No one living nearby
wants to pay the power-bill
and run the pump
to irrigate the dry sward.
After a long workday
in the summer heat,
pickers from adjacent vineyards
who think water should be free
gather in a makeshift line
to use the water-faucet
in the enlarging circle of mud.
To drink as much as bathe,
wash away the grime
of grape juice and dirt.
*****
Stephen Barile is a Fresno native and a longtime member of the Fresno Poets’ Association.
