Spring, but it was hot.
Like mid-July heat.
The two dogs wanted inside.
Tommy, the Jack Russell,
was clever enough
to open the screen door himself.
He chose, instead,
to ooze desperation and
the threat of heat stroke.
In the cage was the insect,
a little Pom mix that’s
a tad bit inbred.
Basically, a canine gnat.
Constant jumping, biting
Jack was reluctant
to let either of them in.
“It’ll be cool any minute,
the sun’s going down.
And they’ve got water.”
he reasoned to himself.
“You can’t give in and spoil them,
they’ll walk all over you if you do.”
It was an open secret
and Jack just plain hated him.
Ruth, his mother,
was still waiting for the divorce
to be finalized
and Mr. Smarmy Pants
was already circling.
He had a pointed face that
arrived at his nose
and made him look like a rat.
He offered to give Jack and his buddy
a ride to the train station
in his little red sports car.
There was barely enough room for two
in the front and Jack had to squeeze
in behind the seats.
He wanted so badly to reach around
and poke his eyes out.
“Going to the Casino tonight”
the rat said, “I’m feeling lucky.”
“A hard-on is not chemistry”, Cynthia said,
Hands on hips.
“Damn it!” he thought.
“So close and she has to get all
“You’re right, baby.” he said apologetically.
“Don’t ‘you’re right baby’, me.”
“I’m driving you home.” she said.
Somehow she hit every green light
on the avenue.
Jack couldn’t catch a break.
God works in mysterious ways.
Rashes, sores and pestilence.
How people love to make him responsible
for all manner of random.
Then search for the meaning why.
Was it retribution or reward?
A death in the family,
the whole block burned but their house was spared.
The tree was struck by lightning and the sap exploded
sending shrapnel towards the house.
In the window was their coat of arms
it took a direct hit and smashed to pieces.
They’re cursed now for a whole generation.
Decided to drop acid and climb the maple tree.
Jack brought his french horn.
Jerry got the bright idea that they should
bring down the telephone pole
in front of the post office with pruning sheers.
They snapped off as they went for
the main support cable.
Thank God that didn’t work out as planned.
“Freud was the one who introduced the idea of projection,” said Ruth.
“No he didn’t. Freud was a fraud, a coke head, and he faked his case studies.” replied her son, Jack.
“He was not a fraud. Jung was a fascist.”
“What do you mean?”
“A nice fascist, but he was a fascist.”
“He was always jealous of Freud.”
The lower branches were trimmed off
so it was tough to climb.
But the upper branches were big
They reached out
over the roof of the house.
Jack was under house arrest,
but it was an easy lean and swing
onto the tree.
Then down into the yard
for a quiet escape.
So, I go to the local gas station/liquor store.
And I’m wearing a cap with an elm tree as the logo
and a tie dye Indonesian number with a pocket
(because a man needs pockets).
And I ask for a map.
After peeking at it, they inform me it’s not for sale.
I hand it back to them.
As I am leaving, the big dude at the register asks me
“Are you sure you aren’t a hit man, casing the area?”
I answer, “Do I look like a hit man to you?”
“Those are the most dangerous ones.” he says with a smile.
A pile of half rotten cucumbers shaped in ways suggestive.
They were tasked with the clean up.
One look at each other, another look at the mound.
It was on – hurling, howling and ducking for cover.
Took one upside the head, then he caught Patrick squarely as he ran.
Hadn’t laughed that much in years.
See saw Margery Daw,
Jenny shall have a new master;
And she’ll get bounced in the air
and sent flying off…
Jack’ll be caught and given hard labor.
Then, she’ll get paid but a penny a day
Because she can’t work any faster
And because she toils in the sweat shops
that make the emperor’s clothes.