Friday, May 16, 2008


It's a first over here at Jim Hall Sleeps All Day. I just wrote this and now it's yours. Enjoy.

Hey Mr. Gardener
or is it Mr. Lawnmower
Did you know how difficult
you are making it
for me to get anything done
right now?
I’m trying to think
and to type
and to create
and you ain’t helping
Weren’t leaf blowers banned years ago
If you were my child,
I’d tell you to
take that noise
But you’re already there
staring at me through my office window
doing everything in your power
to pretend you don’t see me
when we’ve made eye contact
at least three times
this morning
The first was when you
opened the gate
the one that sits next to where
I’m typing
You came through
and said “sonofabitch”
under your breath
after you failed to
kick-start your machine
and you got startled
when you turned around
and saw me there
Not that I care,
but I imagine saying
things like that
can’t be good for business
But you keep on
keepin’ on
clueless to the fact that
I’m writing about you
as your irritating tools
blow dust into my
asthmatic lungs
and dilute my coffee
are you gonna pick up those leaves
or just blow them around some more?
That’s how I used to clean my room,
just shove all that shit
under the bed
and somehow
it magically disappears
Except when you leave
my backyard
will still be full of
and you’ll be at someone else’s
creeping them
with your
windowless white van
parked in the center of their driveway
so no one can
come or go
like you do to me
on a weekly basis
And what about those three lawnchairs
you knocked over for no good reason
only to not put them back
in their place?
My mom told me to leave things
the way I found them
What did yours teach you?
How to be a grumpy old fart
with a bright red neck
from spending too many hours
in the hot California sun
punctuated by a forest of
white hairs crawling
from your back
with a lame job
that takes you into homes and neighborhoods
you’d never be able to afford
But I can’t complain
the landlord picks up this tab
not me
For that
you should be thankful
because I see the
shoddy work you do
and would fire you
like I spark joints –
smooth and effortlessly

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