Another Big, Beautiful Wall

DOGE riffed Congress. “They’re a waste of space.” The ACLU protested to the Supremes and lost 5-4, in an unsigned opinion. Executive orders are now the law of the land.

His majesty, Donald I, plans to build a “Big, Golden Wall” in the oval office as a backdrop for signing executive orders. He led a column of minions wheeling suitcases filled with gold bars from Fort Knox. He declared, “Forget gold; Bit Coin is the new normal.”

Next up: inefficiency in the court system. DOGE sent layoff notices to all federal court judges, including the Supremes. There are no appeals.

Making Up Stuff

There are house elves in my basement. My therapist says this is a delusion. But, she’s not here at night when they clatter around in the kitchen making noise. My partner rolls her eyes.

What makes them think the elves are not real? This is totally likely, aside from the fact that we have no basement and no decent place for an elf to set up housekeeping or raise a family. I ask you, how can dishes get done and meals cooked while I stay in bed dreaming? My therapist thinks it’s my partner and my partner agrees. They’re deluded.

Ode to Kohnan

His eyes were open and stayed that way
Aware and dignified, right up to the end.
A mensch, reserved, not prone to delay, 
Loyal to a fault, on that you can depend.

Saucy he was in the final hours,
Demanded kibble, a last meal at midnight.
Poured out love, licks, and reassurance.

Despite his weak body, his power
Did prolong the end, enough so that we might
Say woof, shed our tears, take one last dance.

He knew it was the end. We, quite sure, thought that he would rally.
He lay quiet, dignified, a friend and most trusted ally.

Mirror, Mirror

I expect he’s as bad as she was. They’re all the same. “Mirror, mirror.” They don’t ask my name. If they do, they never remember. Damn, here he comes. The fairest of them all. Gold skin, gold hair, gold picture frames. More like the fakest of them all.

The paunch is real. It’s the size of New Jersey.

Queen Evil knew the truth. She was out for revenge as soon as she saw the real beauty standing behind her. I’ll tell him what he wants to hear. Or I’ll go so dark even his sparkly gold won’t bring me back.

A Quiet Morning

Exiled to the backyard,
While inside the termite inspector inspects,
Kohnan limps to the door,
Pleads with liquid brown eyes.
He doesn’t bark; has no energy for that these days.

“He’s friendly.” 
The inspector nods. Kohnan sidles in quietly.
He’s drawn blood.
He can be protective, even with friends.
Not now. Mornings he wakes up slowly in a fog of old age.

He’s at my feet, 
Moving his head to the sound of steps in the attic.
The sun falls in patterns, 
Warms my legs, his arthritic hips.
Warmth is welcome to us both, we’re grateful spring is coming fast.

The News Went Straight to Her Waist

Elsie was in such a rut. Doomscrolling was her go-to activity. Things changed with an e-mail. She’d won a weekend at a luxury spa. She woke in a fancy hotel, took a yoga class, and had donuts for breakfast with her personal trainer.

The girl finished her yogurt. “Any trouble spots?”

Her tummy, always her tummy. The mound that amplified her waist had expanded recently. “I want a flatter stomach.”

”You’re a stress eater.”

“How could you tell?”

The trainer said, “Your T-shirt.”

It said, “Hands off my junk food, you fascist.”

“We’ll start with your social media. Then, pilates.”

Lord Save Me

After a downpour, the Stetson disintegrated into an ill-formed mess. The cowboy set it on the hatter’s counter. “A replacement. Free.”

In a nasal tone, the fastidiously dressed clerk said, “No guarantees.”

The cowboy pulled out his gun. “This here’s my guarantee.”

“This here’s my answer.”

The cowboy’s gun flew from his hand. He hit the basement floor. Ominously, a trap door snapped shut above him. Blood trickled from his head.

The place smelled worse than the stockyards. In the dim light he saw sewing machines and skeletal workers manning them. Lord, oh Lord, what had he gotten himself into?

Tennis Anyone?

At night, she played tennis. It started innocently enough. It was raining and she couldn’t sleep. She took a few balls and thwacked them against the back wall of the garage. Retrieved them from under the car. The next night, she parked on the street. Next, she moved the workbench to the side yard. And so on and so on until she had the garage replaced with an enclosed tennis court.

Her roommate was surprised. “Did you check with the landlord?”

“About what?”

“Putting in a tennis court.”

“It’s a garage, a better version.”

“How?”

“It has a tennis court.”

Mistress Minna’s Comb

Chug-a-chug, chug-a-chug, down the track they go.
On a kind of mission bent.
Lickety-splitly off they went
Some would say they’re heaven sent.
Here is what I know.

Mistress Minna was a nymph, a beauty so they said.
In a tree she kept her comb,
Ancient heirloom made from bone.
One fine morning she intoned,
“Guards, a thief has fled.”

Sure enough the comb was gone; thief fled on the train.
So they followed on the track.
Tried to get the bone comb back.
Gantry singing clicky-clack,
Pumping in the rain.

Tracks were damaged in the storm. 
They caught him.

Bunnies and Baskets

Easter eggs are piled sky high,
Dollar each they run.
Once a year, “Splurge,” we cry,
One for all, and all for one.

Bunny chocolatiers we are,
Upright on our legs.
Melt the chocolate from the bar;
Shape it into tasty eggs.

Eggs that nestle side by side
In shiny, foil wraps.
In wicker baskets they reside,
Excited bunnies, fill and clap.

All night long, bunnies create
Goodies for the kids.
Out you come, don’t be late,
Searching, finding where they’re hid.

Children wearing chocolate smears,
Tummies, tongues, at rest.
Bunnies done until next year.
Satisfied they’ve done their best.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: