One summer-was he eight?–
They gave him the seed packet
Along with a 2′ by 4′
Slice of the estate.
To grow, to grow-grim law
Without appeal!
He, after all, kept growing every day. …
Now this redundant chore.
Up sprouted green enough
For the whole canton, had one known to thin it.
Michaelmas found him eye to eye
With a gang of ruffians
Not askable indoors,
Whose gaudy, wooden attitudes
(“Like pine cones in drag”)
There was scant question of endorsing
-Much as our droll friend, their legatee,
Would reap from them over the years. For instance:
Think twice before causing
Just anything to be.
Then: Hold your head high in the stinking
Throngs of kind.
Joyously assimilate the Sun.
Never wear orange or pink.
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