stump

the landscapers took way too long...
and when they finally hit me up for a grand and a half
there was a bonus:
they would chop down the old tree
and grind down the stump for half price.
I stared at the foreman,
a beet-faced fuck
chewing an unlit cigar,
and then at the tree —
a wooden swing hanging from a rope,
initials carved into the bark
and crossed out,
and I stared back:
“Yeah, chop it down.
But forget about half price —
I don’t need your charity.”