The War is Lost by Jason Langlois
Everyday I sit in the yard, waiting for you to start me up. The grass (mostly weeds) are two feet tall, calling to me – taunting me, yet still I sit.
You go to the store, walking by me on the way to your car. I sit, ignored and neglected. You steal gas from the neighbors to put in your car, yet no gas for me. I’m sure they would give the gas to you, if it were for me and not to go to the bars and bring strange people back to our neighborhood.
A few times last summer, you started me up for ten minute increments. For the neighbors and I, it was heaven. Aah… Together we mowed three patches on three different days, until you got tired/lazy/ready for a drink and went back inside. I and your neighbors wept. And waited.
