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.
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4 comments:
It's like poetry. Have you considered an open mic night? Hmmm?
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.
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.
IT'S AN EX-NON-RELATIONSHIP GODAMMIT GET IT RIGHT!!!
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.
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