I’m cool under pressure.
When things go to hell
And all pear-shaped and sideways
I handle it well.
My secret is simple:
I’m good dousing fires
And that’s all that any
See, if you’re prepared
To extinguish a flame,
An arsonist’s touch
Makes all crises the same.
Watching the pictures on TV today
The Florida skies have turned Dorian gray
The Wildest weather since Andrew’s the boast
Of the dissolute lord of the south central coast
The cat beneath my window yowls a loud, profound lament;
My neighbors’ yapping Yorkies share their spirited dissent.
Communication matters, but I wish they’d stipulate
That they’ve a difference of opinion and retire, ’cause it’s late.
I have hiccoughs. They’re not cute.
A sudden, unsought lung reboot
That strikes mid-sentence might be funny
If it isn’t you, but, honey,
You are not immune. Suffice
To say, your day will come.
Pizza dinner nearly spoiled:
Meant to bake it, but I broiled,
Which ignored the underdough
And left it cool. No worries, though,
I plopped it on the concrete porch
Out front just long enough to scorch
Some crisp into the spongy crust.
In Hot August Sun we trust.
This is just to say
I have eaten
(And we’re out of plums)
And when they ask me what I did
To pull us back from the abyss
I’ll say, While others ran and hid,
I mocked in verse! and show them this.