When Diplomacy Won't Work

There’s a turf war going on in my yard.

Dandelions are crowding out grasses

with their unauthorized settlements

of fat sprawling leaves. They've set

up dictatorships commanding

all subjects to wear yellow turbans.

I am determined on regime change,

having been influenced in favor

of green by pretty catalogs from seed growers

makers of fertilizers and weed killers.

But I am constrained from chemical warfare

by a higher authority--my wife--and her allies

the deer, who are neutral, nibbling equally

on both sides, and the salmon who swim

around in the saltchuck at the end of our street.

The dandelions have learned to keep

their heads down during mower assaults.

I've lowered the blade in retaliation

but the enemy counters by early ripening,

releasing brigades of midget paratroopers

to spread terrorist cells wherever they land.

Collateral damage body count averages

six slugs per skirmish but I say if the little

buggers can't get out of the way

they deserve what they get.

I have a plan.

I will raise the debt ceiling and mobilize

a children's army to dig up the dandelions,

a nickel a pop. It will be a holy war.

When the number of holes

exceeds the number of dandelions,

I will know I am winning.

In the end, I will win.

God is on my side.