Garden

Garden


You used to live in a house
Filled with people
Who were afraid of the world
And of living
The world was sinful
And living was mostly wrong
Unless you had a Bible with you
Fine, fine people
Like fine, fine tulips
Lined up all in a row
Walking through life
So as not to touch it
As if life is
A glass shoppe
And they are the visitors
Don’t touch anything!
You’ll break something and go to hell!

You used to live in a house
That went on and on
It wouldn’t end
You escaped by climbing trees
And by watching The Wonder Years
You wanted to fall in love
And to cuss sometimes
Without feeling guilty
Boys shouldn’t be bad
And cussing shouldn’t be
Damned to hell fire

You used to go to a church
Filled with people who were happier
Because they were richer
So you escaped by
Staying with your grandmom
In her vast and opulent mansion
Most of the time

You lived in a neighborhood
Where lawns were mowed
And people had white picket fences
There was even an old people’s shelter
At the corner of the drive
And a cop mom
On the other corner
But white picket fences make you puke
It’s a trap, it’s a prison
You want the big cities
You want to live in a big city
Where you can hear all the people
From all around
Moving
Moving like water through a brook
Rippling over stones like
Clear water through a brook!
And mowed lawns are only any good
If your lawn is the most mowed
And your flowers are the most trimmed
So you planted a garden
You were eating fruits one day and you
Sprinkled the seeds on the ground
It turned into a garden
Then you could pick watermelons from it
And tomatoes too
(Where did the tomatoes come from?)
Then while everybody else
Had perfectly trimmed flowers
You had your own little garden
That you planted
Because you wanted a garden
Not daisies that looked like
Everybody else’s daisies
Certainly not
A white picket fence

Now you live in the city
Where people and things
Move
Like clear water over stones
In a rippling brook
And you’ve planted avocado trees
You don’t go to church
Some of your friends are gay
You love the world, it’s not a sin
You cuss when you want to
You’ve fallen in love
Maybe too much
You’re not going to hell
And you puke
Whenever you see
White picket fences


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