Thursday, March 29, 2007

Dear John Deere

My neighbor, who I call deer hunter (I forget his real name) does not mow his lawn. It's ragged and overgrown and thatched with pine needles. His backyard, I have learned, is paved. It is where he stores his industrial John Deere riding lawn mower with halogen headlights. His wife is blind.


The Yellow Dart said...

It's like poetry. Have you considered an open mic night? Hmmm?

Mr. Shain said...

carrie, maybe if you'd spend a little less time making up pseudonyms and reading blogs and a little more time working on your non-relationship, things would be better for you. then again, maybe not. KC says hello and asked how cameron was doing.

blythe said...

asking you if that was a poem was my comment plan. damnit.

also, i still think we should have a cringe night somewhere in town. there's nothing i'd like to hear more than your sweet voice reading an old debate case. now, that is poetry.

The Yellow Dart said...


F-ing Christ. I need to get my own blog up and running so I can investigate why my thus-far most-enduring relationship with a member of the opposite sex is with YOU.