You tricked me, leafblower, out amongst
the lawns, admiring my own arms for
their usefulness, peeled bark, owned houses,
guidelines toward mulch. I wanted you
to be the wind, harnessed, finally, I wanted
you to make me God. But like the firehose
or blender or hangglider before you, this is a
clumsy toy, a dignity steal for men in buttoned
shirts even on their day off. Listen: my home
is my castle and the lawn is my moat and the
leaves, they are alligators, even in the fall.
You've punchlined me, set me to the neighborhood
council in apology rags, contrition tie, shame loafers.
I drive back, my savnat malfunctioning, Joe,
over there, on his riding mower, grinning,
near asleep in his beer.