Vague Musings

Baby sparrow fallen from

the chestnut tree.

Perhaps his mother will find him

and return him to his comfy nest.

More likely he’ll just die…

that’s usually the way

life goes.

Fat Ed from
across the street
doesn’t like
the look of
my lawn.
Too much crab grass,
he says.
I nod in perfect agreement,
and wish
violent death
upon him.

Small faces
on the school bus,
so filled with excitement
so eager to learn…
That won’t last very long.

June…
There should be time enough
in June.
I keep waiting,
but June never comes.

Junie Cloonie
loves her loony toonies,
takes a bus trip to the old
cheese moonie.
Sad, sad
Junie Cloonie,
so damn cute,
but such a
silly baffoonie
[I wonder what ever happened to Junie Cloonie? She was such a swell gal…winning personality, excellent penmanship, always wore the most sensible patent leather shoes. There’s talk that she wound up starting an import-export company and sold her spleen to a camel jockey in Saudi Arabia for $42.79; the rest of her is supposedly on exhibit at the Smithsonian. If I could, I would marry Junie Cloonie, even without her spleen. I love you, Juny Cloony!!!]

Whenever I smell
antiseptic ointment
I always think
fondly
of you
and your
rubber gloves.