the distance between or song for decapitation or lawnmower's revenge

[wheresomego]

-going to my garage to find
that the door has been unlocked
and that the lawnmower is missing
and rambling about the possibilities
of where it has gone-

stumbling through garden yards
in the dusks fading smoker's breath
treading upon our lips
while night talks too close for comfort
and negative body language awakes you
when you find you have rolled from
                                           your lovers arms
sometime since midnight
and the yard gets his haircut
to attend a box social atop himself
since his lack of motion
moves society to make exceptions for him
in his heathy wholeness, a oneness with nature
that disappears with the day's last cigarette

yard work gone wrong can lead to a good nap gone
                                                                  right

if one allows for couches to be placed in such a way
that a snooze can be reined in before it's time
to lassoe the cattle back into their corral
and place the electric grass decapitator
(or grass-cutting machine as the immigrants say at CT)
back to sleep, without security
because the lock has been broken for years

-perhaps it has made it to the far away land
of my grandparents house
where the boy across the street will complain
about the noise it makes and my grandfather
will have another scotch and keep working-