these two dogs had run away
from their owner and into my
yard and it was my duty to catch
them so i raced behind them with
a stick in my hand, yelling
GET THE HELL OUT OF MY
YARD YOU TINY, SNIVELLING
and they stopped long enough
for me to make a charge at them.
i missed of course and they ran
across the yard yapping and
snapping and i tried to soothe
them by noting the accuracy in
my comments but they would
have none of it so we ran for
another half-hour until they'd
finally had enough and wandered
home while i shouted
ANYTHING THAT BIRTHED YOU
MUST HAVE BEEN A REAL
after which my neighbour stuck
his head out his window and
gave me that look i usually get
when i don't cut my grass for
a couple of weeks and i wasn't
quite sure if he thought i was
referring to him, though i figured
a little ambiguity was probably
good for a person.
ambiguity never shits on your lawn.
from the July 2005 issue of High Altitude Poetry
more of my poems from HAP here.