two bovines and a goat

I'm huddled upstairs in my study
weak, but unwilling to admit it,
which is bullshite since it's the reason
I'm upstairs in the first place

Below me, on my heat cracked driveway
sit two sun-faded cars and one
dusty red lawnmower
like two indifferent bovines
and one ornery goat,
surveying my balding yard;

and my balding yard,
burned by autumn leaves not raked,
damning me its leprosy
stares back with eyes of rogue
dandelions,
fornicating
with the wind,
like I didn't know

I want no more to slay
what little grass remains
than what little grass remains
wants of me
nor do I want
another dust bowl
to piss my neighbors off
who just washed their new
sparkling metallic blue ride
that sits due west
before a taunting carpet of
green tight lush manicured grass

that I'm two days into a hangover
doesn't help matters

post script:

getting a new roof today
watching old shingles
drop like bombs on my weeds
as hired hammers pound the roof like hail
a sound soothing as desert rain