Mid-morning traffic:
free and easy expressways
give way to gridlock.

Finally finished!
I missed a spot? Gee, thank you.
(Short-lived victory…)

I done messed this up.
Despite deliberation,
I done messed this up.

Three-hundred minutes
spent smoking up the gas grill,
tenderizing meat…

Massaging the green
carpet of a prized front lawn
takes priority.

Why is now the time
every last thing must be done?
To satisfy haste?

As the day lingers,
cold salad and hot pizza
sadly exchange temps.

Dancing or groping?
The hands of a lone bopper
cannot distinguish.

Good luck to the burnt
grass singed yellow by the sun.
Please drink some water.

Four-hundred degrees
burn this butter to a crisp
brown deliciousness.