grow up and throw away your toys
the motor blowers screaming on a sunday morning
hunched clowns puffing their cheeks to move a pile of grass
forgetting how to kick it
put the gas into another rocket maybe
the moon
 for your 75 year old neighbor who doesn't leave her house much
let the grass grow or
cut it with a scythe
keep the computers, tell your aunt
on another continent
you had a tough day
send her photos of the woods
your visit with the neighbor
who pointed out a jack-in-the-pulpit
why not
but
stop screaming
don't buy another rifle
from the back of that comic book
x-ray scope
guaranteed to kill a sleeping
elephant
it's ok
everything is ok
will be ok
you are forgiven
roll in the hay
with everyone
and leave alone
permission
from a mountain of moles
stamping your ok ass good to go
take hands
take lands
some of the crops are for the bugs
some for the sheep
some for you
rum is for special occasions
as are fireworks