Neighbors
on both sides pay this ol’ boy to cut their grass, and so did the people that
owned this one before I got it last fall. I ain’t paying to get my grass cut,
sorry, it’s not that big a yard. So I got a push mower, but I ain’t cut it all
yet. Fuck it, it’s just grass. I’d rather blast funk gospel, watch the kittens
dive into the air trying to catch butterflies, watch the redbuds turn pinker at
the edge of the woods, and just sit there in my MY GRASS IS TALL t-shirt,
stacking quartz rocks on old giant metal springs I found at the railroad
tracks. As long as I keep the springs upright and the quartz above the tallest
grass, I’m doing good. Who the fuck heard of having grass you pay somebody to
cut instead of a bunch of junk springs with giant rocks on top? What kinda fuckin’
world is this we’ve made?
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