Recognizing patterns is a skill
At which humans excel, perhaps because
A predator is less likely to kill
The prey that figures out that’s what it does.
Darwinian selection is to blame
For those of us who can’t not recognize
That every single presidential claim
These three years weaves a tapestry of lies.
When Donald Trump inhales as if to speak,
Veracity recoils, sore afraid
Of coming into contact with the bleak
Mendacity with which the truth’s betrayed.
Words have definitions. There are rules
For using them, ignored by clowns and fools.
Tomorrow marks three work days in a row!
I’d gotten used to having [Something] Eve
Then Wednesdays off. Those days are over, though,
As, like my true love’s geese, they had to leave.
I’m serious, those geese made quite a mess!
Suffice to say, they weren’t just laying eggs.
I’ve never seen a bird make doo with less
Fresh food–those greedy swans just left them dregs,
And yet the laying lawn’s a soggy slick
Of rain-soaked cylinders of gray-green goo.
I’d scoop the poop (although it makes me sick)
But I’ve got work tomorrow! Sad but true:
A week of geese excreting on my lawn
Is what it takes to make me glad I’m gone.
It seems to me the Twenties are afraid.
They had a chance to make themselves stand out
By rendering our work weeks un-Mondayed
And exit every weekend sans a pout,
But though the opportunity was ripe
For harvesting, the chicken Twenties choked,
And all our hope was just a hunt for snipe.
They ought to have their calendar revoked.
It’s possible they’ll yet redeem themselves,
Rise up courageous, finish with a roar,
And crank those scales of 1-to-10 to 12s
And teach me not to doubt them anymore,
But Monday happened, and it wasn’t great.
Unless this was the last one, it’s too late.
I woke up with a haiku in my head–
Well, that’s not true. I woke up with the name
Of some old one-hit-wonder band instead,
And as an earworm, that’s not quite the same.
I worried in the dark about the group:
Was it a trio? Duo? Were there four?
When next I woke, their song was there, so, poop!
Don’t Pull Your Love is mine forevermore.
The answer, if you’re interested, is three:
Dan Hamilton and Tom Reynolds were two,
The third’s Joe Frank Carollo; you can see
How that’s confusing. Then came that haiku,
Which dealt with whether having no elbows
Would alter hat design. Now no one knows.
I haven’t checked the news, but I presume
That Donald Trump is still the president
The way that Frodo needn’t see Mount Doom
To know that Sauron still is resident.
There’s something in the way the ravens squawk
While plummeting that gives the game away.
The first few feathered corpses were a shock
But now we just think, “Oh, it’s Saturday.”
I don’t know why the Oval Office troll
So loathes these black, bewingéd scavengers:
They’re not a threat unless you have a soul.
(Melania’s safe, ’cause she’s not using hers.)
The weekend’s here, but there’s no sleeping in.
Trump’s president. Go sweep the street again.
That Twilight Zone, remember, with the kid?
The one they were afraid to make upset
Because of all the awful things he did
When he got mad? Okay, we’re not there yet,
But having an entitled, venal squit
Who thinks that only rules are not for him
But everything else is, well, that’s a bit
Like Serling’s Peaksville. What’s the kid’s name? Jim?
No, Anthony! Young Will from Lost in Space
Made everybody think just happy thoughts
Or he’d erase their mouths, or just replace
Their favorite vegetables with tater tots,
Or something. I don’t know. It’s been a while.
I’m guessing, though, that show makes Donald smile.
It’s much too soon to write the decade off.
We haven’t even had a Monday yet!
You wouldn’t call in sick for just one cough
(Although perhaps you should: Don’t want to get
Your colleagues sick to scratch your ego’s itch.
They’ll all survive without you for one day!
Your boss will understand, and if the situation
Were reversed, what would you say?
Don’t answer that: Nobody else is you
And no one’s standards even half as high;
Your dedication to your work is true.
You’d be there even if you had to lie!
So, maybe that’s a bad analogy).
The decade could work out. Let’s wait and see.