Saturday, May 11, 2024

The Lawn Mower’s Demise

 Everyone’s the same

self-conscious

-ego’s to blame.


I’m ashamed

that I’m not ashamed,

should I be ashamed?


Yes,

you feel bad

for wishing goodwill to men.


That makes sense. . .


Meanwhile, this mid-life crisis in my head

is sending me to bed

without dinner.


One less dirty plate,

one more clean step

into the world of an unknown fate.


And I can’t help myself

as I think about dirt,

and how amazing it seems to be.


Suddenly my clean shoes

find their way off my feet.


I dream I take my seat

on the ground, and dig up

every pretty flower on the sparse lawn.


“Yawn!”

You thought I was going

to kill them didn’t you?


They’re not weeds to me,

and they needed to be

saved from The Lawn Mower’s Demise.