The cops yell odes
that mean surrender
but I’m still reading
the funny papers
and appreciating the
view from the breakfast nook
after Dagwood or Sluggo
drop something heavy
on their foot.
The dogs
yowl something
like a soprano sax
doing a high C
in the middle of
Bridge Over Troubled Water.
It was a calm
early afternoon
til then, everything moving
the gentle murmur
of power mowers
across the street
and down a few doors,
it was all fine
and somewhat orderly
until the hounds
found their
water bowls
and announced
their thirsty ways.
All the
women
I’ve lived with
look at me still
as something
to view askance
and agog,
none of them
could believe
I did what
what was done
although they’ve
known men all their lives.
There is a
new demand
every hour
in the twenty four
we’re blessed to have
and sometimes
I just let the phone
ring .
.
Ted Burke
.