i tell the grass to break the law

no one is looking anyway. the moon blinks
here one huge eye. the dogwoods' spit
all her blossoms. it's heat from here on out.
the grass has plans though. you can see it
in his faces. each blade pocket-knifing 
then limp as if to feign innocence. the grass wants 
to steal light bulbs & siphon gasoline.
grass wants to burry the body. tells rabbits 
where the foxes hide & the rabbits cover
their soft ears because the grass is always
on the side of the predator. if you put
a stethoscope to grass you can hear their plotting.
i sit out in the yard behind the pine tree 
& perform my inspection. pick up the words
"desperate" & "flavor" & "very very soon."
so i deduce the grass is trying to swipe
my mother's shortcake & maybe kill us. 
likely the cake. swallow the blushing cake
into dirt. the worms want nothing to do with this.
but what can you really do about the grass?
it's the fill-in species for every blank space.
sometimes grass grows unwelcome on my printer paper
& then even in my aimless thoughts. 
stuck in his ways. i remember the seed 
we planted when our yard was only mud. 
tiny beige flecks. helpless in their youth.
my father spreading them & told me
to stand back. the sprinkler water they drank.
after all that, just to turn against us.
i lay in the grass & get ears full of chatter.
tell the grass "i want you to be happy."
the grass, stubborn, grumbles at this kindness.
pushes me to the hot asphalt. lights a match 
& throws it towards the porch but it doesn't catch.
when the grass is older we hope it will understand.
a tantrum is coming. but no one is looking, i think
just do what you must & move on. no one made the law.
the law arrive like a scissors one day. 
i tell the grass we can govern ourselves 
if we really wanted. the grass pretends
not to hear. goes about his mischeif
while i head inside where it's safe.
my mother is washing dishes & asks
"did you take my shortcake?" 

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