Blow Job

I wake from my nap

To the horrible sounds

Of my gardeners

Buzzing and hacking

Trimming and cutting

All done with the quickness of a horse race

But the noise

And the timing

Always when I wanted to sleep

I learned their pattern from my bed

Fifteen minutes of

Buzzing and hacking

Trimming and cutting

Then silence

Just long enough to start to sleep, again

Until the blow job

The final instalment on a thunderous afternoon

The last man comes around

And blows all the loose clippings away

The blow job

What a job

“What do you do for a living, Alvin?”

“Why, I’m the blower!”

The boys in Castro

Must love the way he finishes up

© D J Loweman 2014

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