Okie From Skokie Poem by Sonny Rainshine

I hear you bought a farmhouse
in Sonoma, grabbed it for a song
in foreclosure, and with a vinyard.

Had your fill of mergers and acquistions,
you told me in your last e-mail.

Had it up to here in the phony
intelligensia, the name-droppers,
the white hiphop singers
whose anger is based
on deprivation,
not rage.

Had enough of having too much,
you opined. Want to feel the squish
of grapes on your toes
and want to watch the vines
crawl toward the azure
California sky.

The jpeg you sent of the adobe
house where you will live
looked sad to me; looked, well,
foreclosed. Looked lonely
and forsaken. Do you have enough
heart left to fill the rooms,
to ripen the grapes
to bring your very soul
to fruition?

Are grapes hard to grow?