in a field outside of town

Today my cousin and my mother and I went to the cemetery and put flowers on the graves. It was as we were walking over said graves that I was thinking about grass.
You see, I haven't been around grass in quite a while. I mean, grass that smells. Not grass in the marijuana sense because that smells plenty, but the grass in the real yard-sense. You know, grass that smells like summer and spring and sometimes rain? Mostly sunniness and umbrella forts under cherry blossom trees, but that's just me. Well, I live in the middle of the grungy city during the week; my front yard is made of concrete and homeless folks. On the weekends I head up to the mountains where the only grass is dead and hidden under layers of snow. So I'm not exposed to any grass, really, aside from the grass at school which I'm always in too much of a hurry to sit in.
I need to appreciate the fucking grass.
Hopefully I'm going to Enumclaw tonight; I'll be at Kay's father's and I'll commandeer their mini yard.
Hmmmm sounds good.

Love.