20150420.0651

420, heh.

It is a day to mow the grass
To smell the smell the cut leaves leave behind
And maybe to dispose of the cuttings by burning

I imagine many will do so
In Colorado
In Washington
In apartments on Parkside Avenue
In towns and in the countryside
With and without fear

It is not a thing to my taste
And I have smelled such smells before
In truth, I prefer to it liquid bread
But that is me
And my belly bloats for it

I wonder, though
Have any traded the cut-leaf smell
On such a day as this
For getting the vapors
And how would that work anyway?

I am the wrong kind of doctor to find out.