I’ll come right out with it: I don’t see the purpose in gardening

Don’t misunderstand me though, I love plants

Nothing gives me such serenity as blooming forsythias

And I get giggly over a rose covered pergola

But making those things myself, I just don’t see the need

When there are already so many lovely gardens in existence

And I’m not just talking about Versailles and the Kew

My neighborhood is chock full of charming yards

So why should I go through the effort to add another?

To weed, water, fertilize and mulch

Then wait all that time for things to sprout, let alone bloom

When I can just go sit in one of my neighbor’s gardens

And revel in their botanical achievements

For example the cape on Molly Street has fine marigolds

And its owners are rarely even home to enjoy them

So in a way I’m doing their plants a service by sitting there 

Keeping them company, on weekdays between 8 and 6

When both the Land Rover and Saab are gone

And Linda and Rich Havemeyer, over on Fisher Lane

Who I accidentally met one Monday

not knowing it was Labor Day

Have enough succulents to make a desert green with envy

And they’ve been kind enough to let me return

Under the condition that I not enter the house

Which I doubt has very many plants inside it anyway

On days I wake up craving ferns,

I let myself into the backyard on Tully

And when its lilies that I desire,

I bike over to the gray bungalow on Webber

You see what I mean now? Absolutely no need to garden 

When there are so many green spaces begging for attention

Just sitting there, beautiful and lonely

While their owners are out earning money 

To cover the cost of our water bill and fertilizer