The Christmas lights are up because
That’s just what our tradition was
When Groundhog Day was our big fête;
We’d leave the lights up till the date
Had come, along with all our friends,
To toast the day that never ends
By screening back-to-back-to-back
Bill Murray’s déjà vu attack,
But now the kids are grown and gone
It’s hard to put the party on,
And bingeing by ourselves seems crazy.
Why the lights, then? ‘Cause I’m lazy.

Audrey III

Importunate, that’s my cat.
Impertinent? She’s also that.
She’s glad to be whatever works,
From fool to fuzzy sack of jerks
To drama queen, if food’s the prize.
She’s Hunger in a cat disguise.
Try and tell her, Take a powder!
She hears, Could you yowl louder?
Not content with daily bread,
She wants it hourly instead,
And could you cut the crusts off, please?
Call her greedy, she agrees,
But in a good way, she’ll amend.
She’s happiest when we pretend
Each meal’s the first she’s had today.
At last! she’ll purr. Don’t walk away!
This empty bowl won’t fill itself,
And there’s a box upon that shelf
That has my picture on it, so
How ’bout you grab that ‘fore you go?

I’ll put my foot down. Soon! Not yet.
Right now, I have to feed my pet.

Item Number 65727

We all have our hobbies. Mine
Is standing in a Costco line,
Apparently, on Friday night.
It’s certainly a weekly rite
And has been fifteen years or so.
Them’s hobby numbers, right? Although
It doesn’t help me to unwind
Or recreate. In fact, I find
My urge to stand here wanes or waxes
With the crowd: A large one taxes
My enthusiasm for
Enqueuing on a concrete floor,
And all this month (which means all year)
The whole town spends its Fridays here,
Or so it seems, and I know why:
$9.95 per pizza pie.

Groovy Tuesday?

Lacking options, I would choose
The classic by the Moody Blues
To score my Tuesday Afternoon.
Did I give up my search too soon?
Is there another Dienstag Lied
That qualifies as Best of Breed?
They’re out there. LockerGnome proved that
Four years ago. The one by Cat
Is one about which I’d forgotten;
Yusuf’s tunes are rarely rotten
And this is no exception, but
Does it deserve to make the cut
If, somehow, it had slipped my mind?
It’s in the running, but behind.
Likewise for The Smithereens:
Stuck behind amnesia’s screens
It’s hard to make a solid case
That Groovy Tuesday wins the race.
The list goes on, but Tuesday’s ending,
So I guess I’ll stop pretending
Any other tune will do:
My Tuesday’s moody, and it’s blue.

Weakened Warrior

I didn’t shovel fourteen feet of snow
Or take a chainsaw to that fallen tree.
I haven’t done my taxes, even though
Intuit says they’re standing by for me.
I didn’t chase the gummint off are land
Or send the Bundys back where they belong.
It’s not through me you finally understand
The way you’ve always done that thing is wrong.
That stack of work is equally undone
Today as when I left on Friday night.
I found my shoes, but never took that run
I’d planned to take (and now we’ve lost the light).
The full moon came and went without my aid.
Two diems, comprehensively carpe’d.


Stuck inside the house all day
Perusing posts from far away
Where blizzards rage and drifts enforce
In-home entombment. Here, of course,
It’s moderate with patchy blue.
How come I’m on the sofa, too?
Northeast weather’s wild, crazy;
Northwest’s mild. I’m just lazy.