I don't love you, fence.
You are not nice.
When you droop and sag,
when your posts are broken,
you are bearable, a minor hurdle.
When you are strung taut as the rung of a ladder,
you are tolerable, tied to a t-post.
When you are too loose to climb and too tight to sag,
I bristle at the task of passing under, over, or through you.
You bristle back and leave me wounded -
my pride and knee hurt, but nobody saw, thank God!
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