Watering the Lawn
with Ice-Cubes

It is a funny thing
calling this wild dry scraggle
a lawn
but I suppose it is

I beat it down
two or three times a year
with a weed-eater
The steam from my person
fogging my eye-protection
to such a degree
that clustered clumps of grass
or wild dandelions
wait for the second pass
giggling as I huff
annoyed
to their execution

Dark falls
and I sit on the deck
Book in one hand
dwindling disdainful cigarette
in the other
On the little table
a short glass of bourbon
sets my mood
Perhaps a scent
on the breeze comes
reminding me
of the yard below

When all is said and done
my glass sits cold
the rich brown elixir
trickled into my person
Cubes a-clink
not spent
waiting yet

I crush a bedraggled butt
close my book
And then
with a gesture like a shrug of regret
heave the glass to
pausing to hear
the thumping tumble
of water's frozen bounce

-grin to myself a bit tipsy-

Watering the lawn with ice-cubes

cae 9-14-03