We never mastered houseplants. Above and beyond, but a foot to the left. A green thumb was never our best asset. If you didn't shoot, the leaves would be green. The potted plants thrived on the terrace: In the house they just repeatedly cried uncle, Their roots wiggling like an old b-movie. Do all new killers go blank in the stare? Gardening was worse than getting an instrument: Another substandard, low average hobby Intended to expand the pointless talking points. Maybe your urge is due to seasonal pollen? The effort level of the cactus was minimal. Yet in a humidity it was still kindling to burn. Should never have made them my central focus. The hardware store had a shovel clearance. I have to straighten literally anything out So I don't pace 'til the hour of judgement! You think I could pretend I wasn't here and hide? If you go down, will you bargain for my pardon?