The POTW: Verse Til It Hurts

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POTW #786
(Week of 11 December, 2011)

    
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It was a day like many others at the coffee procurement center. The Cat Sock Lady was there with her husband, who was holding forth on the likely astronomical value of things he had collected in the 1970s. There was a minstrel, by which I mean a young guy so attached to his guitar that he can't stand to stop noodling around on it even long enough to go out for a cup of coffee with his family (the guitar did have a beautiful tone). Other typical figures included a laptop guy, a portable electronic game guy, someone reading an actual newspaper, a poet scribbling in a notebook (that was me), a one-legged bird, and a pair of college girls who described a friend as listening to "questionable music." I found that phrase provocative and I thought about writing a poem about it, but for some reason I didn't, I didn't write about any of that stuff. And then somebody walked past the window with an entourage:

Five Small Dogs

Five small dogs in orderly fashion
Five small dogs is a rite of passion
Five small dogs on five small leashes
Five small chirping canine quiches
Five small murderous grenades
A prancing powder keg parade
Of simmering shark attack potential
By size inversely exponential
Righteous in their pride and fury
Executioner, Judge and Jury
Strutting proud with Teeth and Claws
(Excellent names for five small dogs)

Copyright © 2011 by Dave Grossman

Permanent link to this entry: http://www.phrenopolis.com/poem/index.php?p=786


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