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.