Ugly brown grasspatches
soggily slurp insistent green spring,
weeds still step in
for color --
no soft lawn but all the pollen pallor.
So tired of stinkbug brown
middle of the kitchen floor,
like night at the museum
'tween here and bedroom door.
Screens open to mercurchrome air,
something nano builds a new season near.
Westworld busy in the streetlights as I slither into sheets.