Interior Monologue ~ The Hellspawn Neighbor
I curse the day my old neighbor sold his house
and let a drugstore farmer infest the block.
His waist-high grass harbors tick and flea and mouse,
a few copperheads for that cardiac paddle shock.
He came out to chew the fat and shake my hand
about the time he stopped cleaning out his swimming pool:
"We're holistically subsistence farming the land."
(must eat weeds and empty mulch bags, the damn fool.)
"I'm sorry those starving guinea hens got free--
and tore up all your flower beds like that.
Have I mentioned that I have an advanced degree?"
(was that in Freakazoid, or just Asshat?)
"..and something seems to kill off all my bees
in that hive I stuck in triple digit sun…"
(that you ignored, under dropping-limbed dead trees,
and all summer never watered even once?)
Now he's decided to mow just the front yard (half)
piles sour clippings high in giant piles.
Mosquitoes breed in his pool tarp's sagging raft
Is it wrong to hope it's him who gets West Nile?
|Dead Hive~Note the Never-Filled Water Bottle.|
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Kerry's Wednesday Challenge: The Internal Monologue
Kerry asks us to carry on an interior monologue which illuminates our feelings towards a human irritant with which we must deal. For me, that would be Idiotman next door.
VERY Optional Musical Accompaniment,
cuz, Ten Minutes--still, a great song.
Photos © joyannjones