By B.K.
Date: 2002 Jul 27
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Yard Work Fever

I think I have a fever
One million degrees
Help me Darlin
It’s yard work disease
I mowed too much grass
Pulled too many weeds
Might have sunstroke
Or tick bite
Maybe finger Nile Fever
My legs and toes are turning green
And my face is so red it hurts
The dogs are howling
And the neighbors agree
I should have bought a condo
Forget about trying to kill myself
I could be playing tennis, swimming
Just sunning myself pleasantly
I mean this is no Romeo and Juliet scene
This is hell and torture in its finest hours (to me)
And I can sense your snickering faces
While I’m sweating and regretting
The length of the driveway
The width of the yard
The morning glories growing up
The cork screw willow tree
I’m pulling them down
And they’re wrapping around
Like some Stephen King story
They’re climbing up me
The bees are a buzzing
The wasps wild and free
And I’m the yard slave
That would much rather be
Writing poems to my Honey
In a controlled atmosphere
Where it’s cool and so clean
There’s plenty to munch on
And a great big gallon of iced tea
Am I gonna be sore tomorrow
Oh Boo Hoo, Woe Is Me

bk (The Yard Slave)