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

I know this isn't rocket science

But it sure is hard

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 I’m so free

There’s plenty to munch on

And a great big gallon of iced tea

Boy am I gonna be sore tomorrow

Oh Boo Hoo, Woe Is Me

bk (the yard slave)