Pump kin

When I first heard the word pumpkin, I thought,

A compound word I haven’t been taught!

A pump of a fist or a gas station pump?

Must be the latter based on the rump.

Kin is family or relatives and such,

Or something similar, that’s a nice touch.

Then I heard they are orange and round,

Luminescent once a year and stuck to the ground.

That’s when it dawned on me what they are,

Gas station attendants! Hurrah! Hurrah!

It makes sense, with orange-colored skin,

A slightly plump belly and a rounded chin.

Luminescence explained by phosphor paint,

Some ad hijinks, a financial feint.

I wrote a story on the pumpkins’ life,

Got it back and was slashed with a knife.

“Pumpkin is a plant, don’t you know?

See me in my office, don’t be slow.”

A goddamn fruit, that’s so boring!

At least mine got my imagination soaring.

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