Tanking up

I tank up.

Gasoline fumes bubble over and tickle my nose.  I am tickle-me-elmo.

I am in heaven with Bino, my uncle.

I pull the cord…………yank! yank!…….grrrrrrr…………yank!

Nothing growls out.

yank! yank! extra hard!

The monster roars into cranking and

I am cranked up,

so I wheel my load onto the calm, long, dark, real nice spreadth of grass

in my yard.

As I run back and forth over it,

chewing on a moccasin I bought at a garage sale,

like an old donkey in the old mill that my old father used to work at in the old days,

The grass shoots off, I lose my socks in the snow blower.

The grass flies, tumbles away to the moon growing above.

I am calm.  The sun sets and the dew settles.

I blow the carbs out of my car.

I park it at a Jiffy Park and acquire a free shirt.

BY DAWN.

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