Surly Girlie

Writing to figure things out and just because she likes it

Lawn Care

 

  I love walking around  the neighborhood

at evening time,

  and watching the way

 middle-aged men

   with lit cigarettes in their mouths

  work on their yards,

 unaware of their wives right behind them

 about to spray them with the hose…

 

 And the way the two older ladies, with their fluffy dogs, stop talking when we walk by

(as if their secrets are worth keeping)…

          

And the weiner dogs:

             who, I learned today are named Spike & Winny

with the hippy owners

      who meticulously planted

  one lonely azalea

      in the corner of their lot…

                  

And the black guy,

  with his black lab,

       and his hip-hop shorts

    down

      to

        t

        h

        e

         r

         e

      And I make sure I say hi,

             just so he knows,

          I’m not one of those white people…

                                                                                                  *

 “That sounds like a poem,” my husband says to me from the closet,

(when I tell him this after walking the dog one June night).

“It is a poem,” I say.

“By who?”he says.

“By me,” I say.

“Then it must be good, ” he says…

                                                                     And because I am a fool

                                                                                    (for him)

                                                                          and for this world,

                                                                            I write it down.

                                                                                     

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2 thoughts on “Lawn Care

  1. Dan-O on said:

    I loved reading this one…..

  2. nessarox1403 on said:

    I love this. It is a beautiful poem, and your husband was right. I’m glad you shared it. :0)

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