310 NY Ave.

My landlord is a peculiar man
in springtime he carefully plants and seeds
then abandons his garden to the weeds

The flowers do not seem to care
for fertile beds are gladly shared
with dandelion and gypsy kin

The grass grown tall
has gone to seed
long hair tossing in the breeze
Golden rod and Queen Anne’s lace
verdantly embrace

The neighbors say it is a sin
as they patrol the property line
with herbicide and garden shears
For fear that wild flowers may climb the wall
and violate their prim and proper roses

They whisper that my landlord’s
nuts or plain damn lazy
I politely disagree

He’s simply a kindly man
who sees no difference – flower or weed.

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