Toothpicks, Peat, Water and Seeds

a row of brownies, he thought, until he picked one
up and spit out dirt absent mindedly realizing
brownies for seeds, humid, warm, rousing them
from their slumber in a seed packet, ready to
sprout, for forth and conquer the world, or maybe
a summer salad.
red ones and green ones, white ones and blue ones
a stand of toothpicks lined up like soliders
holding their signs that this one is an Amana and
that one, a Cherokee, a Sweetie there and
some yellow Pears on the far edge.
he said he didn't like those because there
were too many, how can there be too many
tomatoes, they disappear rapidly into
an endless supply of open mouths.