GREENLAWN, New York - Moss covered leprechauns dance while their fallen brothers,
the innocent and petite gnomes
and elves, suffocate on filthy
and encroaching all natural lichen.
No one bats an eye as the
engine-less lawn mower is pushed
silently across the lush fertilized
pasture where green is in, and
carcinogens are on the up, and
death and decay are the lowest
kind of status symbol. A beige
spot on a suburban lawn attracts the
glowering furrowed brow scorn of
uppity passer-bys. Fuck ‘em.