Grit in the Teeth

How could a life not be interesting—

my life, for example?
This spinach needs a lot more rinsing.

Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll be too boring,
but I trust my life is like a color sample—
how could it not be at least somewhat interesting,

even if it isn’t a color you find pleasing?—
It helps you find the color you really
want. But, probably, you’re past convincing,

because you yourself are just a plaything
of fate, being trampled
to death by the turtles that make life interesting;

but deeply charmed by everything—
the sugar-maple
leaves turning red in autumn, all the spinach

long picked. What it comes down to is, I’m dying—
who’ll be incentivized to rake gravel
over my corpse—not a very interesting
task? This spinach wants years more rinsing!