Mostly sand, is what the backyard should refrain from.

However with the unrelenting sun, combined with neglect,

Sung in unison,

Sung in refrain.

Here lies a wasteland;

Choked constantly by dying  weeds, all the life here lives below the frost-line.

Up on top, living in air that appears to be melting.

This air is melting.

Or perhaps  this is another mirage altogether;

But where has the ice cream gone?

Fertile soil is miles away, separated by chain-link fences and barking dogs.

Brave grass from those surrounding  yards occasionally will stick courageous fingers through the fence, like a curious child,

In an attempt to inject life into this suburban desert;

In an attempt to  fully understand exasperation.

But like a caged, hungry animal on the other side, the yard consisting of mostly sand  will bite  anything that reaches through.

And like the  sudden snap of  of a middle finger and thumb ,

Like a crack of lightning,

Like milk being poured over cereal…

The grass is severed like an intrusive serpent, and left to wilt in the heat.

and carried away by Perseus.

Hot air balloons and passenger jets fly overhead,

Witnessing the carnage, but still focusing on the pictures they playfully draw in the sky.

Their  own versions of  what horizons may look like.

 Occasional oases will  sometimes appear,

Some of which will be more  permanent then others.

Some will have the same stripes as the other zebras…

Some will fade away like ghosts into the pages of books…

Sprouting up after a heavy rain, or  next to a leaky pipe before it can be repaired,

With a roll of tape,   whose functions have no limits.

Or a pipe wrench, whose functions are  limited to  mostly pipes.

 

&

They all  will  smile as they eat egg-rolls,

As a family.

  As they dance around the dinner table, later that evening.

Long before the cake has been cut,

Long after the candles have been blown out,

Long after Olympus Mons had begun to  crumble.

Even if these meager flowers are  the only  offspring of the seasonal weeds,

Set to expire like the eggs a certain timer is aptly named after-

It will still bring visitors,

Visitors with  plastic squares taped to their visiting chests.

Visitors arriving   their visiting hands stuffed into their visiting pockets.

Having brought  with them various entrees,,

All of which will already be cold due to the long drive.

All of which will already  be cold due to the long drive.