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flink pamingoes

flink pamingoes

there’s something about a perfectly manicured lawn
crisp cool minature valleys of green strands
neatly clipped uniformity
hedges shaved like ancient pompei
stewart-coded collections of pansies and glories;
that gives me the sudden urge to pee
or adorn with cracked toothed garden gnomes
sporting machetes
or pepper with pink flamingoes at odd angles
and questionable positions.

theres nothing wrong with a nice lawn
painting the house every spring
grout work on a saturday morning
gleamy matching bimmers side by side
his hers

theirs

last night I ran out of dental floss
thank the gods for cigarette celophane wrappers

for a while back there
or then
I gave it a shot

big ass fridge that could hold 3 weeks of perishables
a cow, two chickens and three fish
and two rowdy naughty daughters if you pushed real hard

a fourteen hundred dollar couch
white
which we changed diapers on
after getting too lazy to run upstairs
not so white when we donated it to goodwill

every couple years
bigger better rental
bigger better plans
good schools
good food
good sex

well
best of situations
best of plans
dont always work out
I read somewhere

it’s not the end of the world
even if it feels like it
I swear I found horse poop
and a scythe in the backyard
the day before I left

history doesn’t repeat itself
history repeats up on itself
infinitely worse

the difference now
I suppose
is that the littler things matter more

I may have gotten it all wrong
but at least I tried

we have bad moments
we crash and burn
Bactine removes the sting
but it doesn’t heal

I am no longer wanting the skin graft
just someone to help squeeze the fucking bottle

and my lawn be damned.

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