there’s not much
we can control
beyond the home and yard
even those things
are sometimes not ours
living on borrowed land
paying an unreasonable fee
with the chance of eviction
every single month
being told 
by some man 
who doesn’t dress
like a banker should
tell us 
we’re just not able

what I do
is mow my neighbor’s yard
listen to the woman
talk about mending her fence
while we walk
together from the back to front
of her property
listening to her rant
about those who don’t and do
have money
leave her feeling better
about a crumbling structure
telling her that 
I’ll help
knowing what Frost
once said

I don’t tell her
if I had my way
there wouldn’t be
any fence at all
so I could mow every yard
all one length 
follow those patterns
that I like so much
get lost in the engine roar
the heavy sun
mow until the end

so nothing 
out there
could reach it’s 
debilitating fingers
and squeeze
the last bit of hope
from this ragged
thing of a body