Not today
Will the Man beat me down
Instead of hammer hell bent
The other way around
Not today
For there is a presence in the garden
Striding through the yellow slinky seed strands
Gifts from the trees
Twining together in an almost erotic way
Blowing with the spring breezes
Bringing on the heartiest of sneezes
Stirred by those ever growing closer feet
Not today
As the maniac stands in the door
Angrily ajar light streaming inside
Early midges swarm past in golden rays
Eager to transition to that promised land not outside
Only to cling to whitewashed walls and die
With tiny appendage hooks hanging them in place
"Not today!"
I cry as paper presses purposefully into my palm
Black ink oozing to form freakish imagery upon the floor
Devoid of any meaning to me in the moment
And seeing my confusion the madman mutters
"You have until Friday to cut your grass
Or the association will fine you fifty dollars"
Sending me to my knees wallowing with inky coolness
Not today
I think to myself as the last of the twilight fades to black
Not aloud
For the zoning man left hours back
But to myself not because of any lingering lack of reality luster
Only due to one simple situational reality:
The lawnmower is busted
Will the Man beat me down
Instead of hammer hell bent
The other way around
Not today
For there is a presence in the garden
Striding through the yellow slinky seed strands
Gifts from the trees
Twining together in an almost erotic way
Blowing with the spring breezes
Bringing on the heartiest of sneezes
Stirred by those ever growing closer feet
Not today
As the maniac stands in the door
Angrily ajar light streaming inside
Early midges swarm past in golden rays
Eager to transition to that promised land not outside
Only to cling to whitewashed walls and die
With tiny appendage hooks hanging them in place
"Not today!"
I cry as paper presses purposefully into my palm
Black ink oozing to form freakish imagery upon the floor
Devoid of any meaning to me in the moment
And seeing my confusion the madman mutters
"You have until Friday to cut your grass
Or the association will fine you fifty dollars"
Sending me to my knees wallowing with inky coolness
Not today
I think to myself as the last of the twilight fades to black
Not aloud
For the zoning man left hours back
But to myself not because of any lingering lack of reality luster
Only due to one simple situational reality:
The lawnmower is busted
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