The War is Lost by Jason Langlois
Note from the Missed Connections Chief Bottle Finder:
A million years ago, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and the internet was just something a small number of MIT scientists used, I worked for The Nice Paper, a small weekly newspaper in Providence, RI. Our “office” was subletted space in a factory manufacturing inexpensive aluminum utensils. I could tell you lots of stories about working in that building, and one was that every July the footpresses were silenced and employees had a vacation for two weeks. In keeping with that fine tradition, through July 15 we’ll be digging into the lovelorn poets missed connections archive and publishing some of the gems you may not have caught the first time around.
Missed Connections in Raleigh-Durham, NC: In the Tall Grass
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. I still wait.
You know where I am, I’m sure you saw me when you were putting out your Halloween decorations the other day and had to step around me.
I’ll be here when you’re ready (and have some stolen gas!!)
