My memories are a series of backyard cul-de-sacs
That smells of fresh cut grass and juniper-
Wyoming sunsets burned!
Crickets sang their hearts as the sky turned orange
And mother called us in for the day.

In one particular backyard
Sat a stagnant John Deer tractor that remained
Green all year round
As it rested quietly in the shade
Of the Bellevue Alley shrubbery
No more than ten feet from the fence line.

A younger me could turn the ruins of
Once Great Machines into a dream.

This useless tractor was fully functional
In the eyes of a younger me.
Those eyes saw fearlessly a cowboy.
Buckles and leather and mouths to feed
And dried up fields desperately
Need a farmer’s touch.

A younger me could go and do great things in the shade
While the rest of the yard was green!
-How it glistened in the sunlight.

Lisa. Please watch over me!
Write it down in your memory that I-
I was a child lost in a daydream.

She would say that "only boring people get bored."
So, today I’ll be plowing fields and
Corralling cattle before the dust storm.
Disintegrating are the chances for our lunch break-
There is too much work to be done and
The cattle won’t milk themselves.