pull that wire
real hard
(kh-kh-khkhvarrooooom)
rumble around the yard
with a mower
nearly as tall
as I am

a monster
a hungry, angry monster
eating grass
pine cones
sound

zen
that's what my dad
(crazy, I think)
calls it.
relaxing –
to walk 'round the yard
like a carriage ride

but it's a battle

that cat,
he wouldn't purr
(ccrghh-rccrghr-ghrcgh)
if I pet him that way

my dad becomes a cat charmer
and that cat looks dead as a dead cat
but happy
and making happy sounds

he can talk
(my dad, not the cat)
and make you think
(prob'ly why he's my dad,
not someone else's)

like a trans
cend
entalist
think'n'

about nature and calm
and a good world
and democracy,
o' course

dad takes the detour
the lllooonngggest detour
to get to
nowhere

it's better that way
smellin' the air and
wind and trees

makes me thinks he's crazy,
the way he drives on roads
nowhere
wherever they go.

and then we stop the
car and
get out
he looks all peaceful
and i feel
what he feels

wind wrapping you
up
all loose
and the sunset
brushing my cheeks

look at those clouds,
he says.
i do.

start talking
can't stop
too much to talk
about

dad tells me about
time
and people
places
history
things that matter

then he talks
poetry in the river of
air over my head

and then he talks
debates of the day
and who he likes
and who
he doesn't

and I think the same way
because
it just makes sense

and sometimes,
it just doesn't

he's my dad,
but he's not
me.

maybe later,
when the cat is dead,
maybe I'll be the one talking
to dad
and he'll say
how do you mow that
lawn so good?

(but actually,
he'd never say that
because that's bad
english)

and he'll say
sure wish I could see that sunset

and he'll say
hon, who's winning the
election?
i forgot.

and I'll tell him.
because that's somethin'
you just need to know.

and maybe then I'll read him
some walt whitman
about the leaves
of grass
growing
over
us.

it sure will be sad
when he
won't be able to

pull that wire