Thursday, Aug. 09, 2007 - 10:51 a.m.
Late Morning Perfection
************************
Jinky is laying on my desk
I can hear tuna gurgling
deep within his satisfied guts
as he licks his feet
breating deeply,
the cool air after a storm
a gentle breeze
stirrs his red chest hairs
and he relishes
in the view yonder:
a construction crew
tearing up the neibours front lawn
with all manor of dangerous,
loud smokey machines
as muddy men shout
and tortured iron screech
this hood is a battle zone today
old ladies dare not pass to go shopping
the birds themselves dare not sing
no chipmonk has shown himself since dawn
squirrels tremble in the trees
too afraid to descend
perhaps fearing
the chaos of the workers
perhaps dreading
another encounter
with the dreaded
Scarlet Avenger
perhaps they are afraid
just because they are squirrels
Perhaps Junky feels regal
just because he is Jinky
and the myd caked men
and their screaming machines of terror
are his closest allies
the stink of deisal exhaust
leaking from a faulty muffler
is the smell of victory
