grandma: chomp.

sitting in the yard

grass and weed alike had taken over

the edges of the gravel drive

alongside

the old barn

the farm - that's what they always

called it

i'd say the blue house -

they'd tell me it was grey

sitting in nylon-netted lawn chairs,

with a glass jug of sun brewed iced tea

and hamburgers, rare

bee: investigates.

grandma: chomp.

me: appalled - "you ate a bee!"

grandma: "eeeaaaahhh..." she squawked.

me: remembering dares, eating dirt, spiders, ants

grandma: "eeeaaaahhh..." again. "protein"

she protested my stare