Jerry
His hair was always disheveled,
but it fit the flannel
shirt and jeans he wore
every day to the greenhouses
to tend to his petunias.
He tended to his guests
and with the art of a true
salesman. He won over
the crowds and sent everyone
home with a piece of himself
in the shape of a delicate petunia.
By the end of the day
when everyone wanted to leave,
he stayed. He wasn't done,
there was too much to be done.
With a look of Herculean determination,
he was ready to begin the task of counting
his income from the sales of his hardship.
With gentle pushing the nurse
Started the count.
"Jerry, what is ten plus thirteen?
It starts with a two."
"I'm not stupid,
I'm just retarded,"
was uttered in anger that
belied the gentle face.
"Jerry! Don't say that about yourself!"
His face showed an intelligence
Society wouldn't allow him.
"Twenty-three."
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