Nestling among the greenery
Is an aged swing
Its once bright yellow surface
Peeling under the days of sun and rain
Surrounded by plants and flowers

I see not the greenery
Lovingly planted by my father
But fleeting images of my father in his garden
The view from my window is but a pale comparison
To my father.

Large, inelegant, detritiferous trees
Inflict hard, ugly, potentishrapnel pods on our front lawn at the slightest breeze;
Fling their root systems subterraneanally far and wide;
Even into metal pipe and drivewaycrete they insidiously glide.

So barren is the earth around these monsters’ despotic trunks
Urinations of thirty dozen besotted drunks
Could not serve to even marginally water them.
Know this: I would cheerfully, ecstatically, gleefully Slaughter them,
Even if Slaughter has nothing to do with the conventional destruction of trees–
Right now plugs of C-4 in well-placed drillholes, I believe, would be the Bee’s Knees.