Unique

I cannot name one person

Who would eat the foods I eat,

Plus follow the routines I do

To make my day complete.

 

The same way I would not enjoy,

Of all my kith and kin,

Their daily meals and hobbies,

Living in their minds and skin.

 

For even those close confidants

To whom we often speak

Would balk at certain habits;

That’s what makes us each unique.

 

If we could spend a day or two

With one friend at a time

And do exactly what they do

(Including writing rhyme)…

 

We’d understand a little more

Or get a better sense

Of what their lives are like by seeing

All the evidence.

 

But maybe we are better off

Allowing the mystique

Of others’ worlds to stay unknown,

Preventing a critique.

Not Ready for My Close-Up

My teeth have gotten crooked.

My eyes sport puffy bags.

My lashes lost their lushness

And my neck, once taut, now sags.

 

My wrinkles now have cousins

Come to line my washed-out skin,

But it isn’t any mirror that

Reveals the shape I’m in.

 

For that white-haired older lady,

Peering back across the room,

Is the way the whole world sees me

When I’m on the screen on Zoom.

Fitting the Crime

 The governor’s accusers 

Say he acted in a way 

That made them cringe and, naturally,

He has to somehow pay.

All three of them reported 

Language seeming to suggest

A kiss or maybe more would be

Enjoyed at his behest.

He touched one on her back, connecting

With her skin exposed,

Which made her most uncomfortable,

She recently disclosed.

Demands for Cuomo to step down 

To me seem out of whack,

Especially when we’ve heard boasts

Of grabs below the back.  

Behavior should be judged, of course, 

Apologies deserved, 

But resignation shouldn’t stem

From three who’ve been unnerved.

The governor should learn from this

And watch the way he acts,

While those so quick to punish him

Should follow just the facts.

Not an Excuse

An obnoxious man in Texas

Strode into a Trader Joe’s

With his children and no masks

To cover any mouth or nose.

 

Though employees tried to stop him,

He refused to heed the rules,

Spouting much misinformation

To those he considered fools.

 

One excuse he loudly flaunted

Was his “disability,”

Claiming he was thus exempt

From laws applied to you or me.

 

Now, some problems may be hidden;

That’s a known and noted fact

That’s included in the ADA,

A governmental act.

 

But I really liked this comment

Someone made about his rant –

Merely acting like an asshole

Doesn’t special status grant.

Jail-like

Some inmates, when released from jail,

Don’t waste a lot of time

Before old habits do prevail

And they commit a crime.

 

A subsequent arrest may cause

A trip back to the cell

And to the life that prisoner

Has come to know so well.

 

The outside world intimidates;

Protection disappears,

But being back eliminates

The risk of hidden fears.

 

Like convicts, I am also stuck

Inside my Covid realm,

Not knowing when I’ll have the pluck

To once more take the helm.

The PC Police

The PC* police are on the loose

And now they’re banning Dr. Seuss!

They say offensive writing’s there

So readers all should be aware.

 

But wait! We will not have a choice

For censorship has raised its voice,

Deciding that we never meet

What’s waiting on a certain street.**

 

Yes, times have changed; perhaps, today

He’d write the words a different way

With illustrations he’d intend

To absolutely not offend.

 

But books writ many years ago

Reflect a life we used to know

And so, to calm the PC wrath,

We toss the baby with the bath.

 

*Politically Correct

**And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street (1937),

one of the 6 books written by Dr. Seuss which will no longer

be published.

Tsk Tsk

Homicide and genocide

Need punishments to be applied

And fratricide and suicide

Are awful – that can’t be denied.

 

But something else I can’t abide,

Although, in this case, no one died,

Cannot be what we take in stride –

A crime that’s known as verbicide.

 

Unlike insect- or herbicide,

Its perpetrators tend to hide

And, if confronted, they’d be snide;

Corrections down their backs would slide.

 

Some criminals are hanged or fried

But as for writers, here’s a guide –

To those engaged in verbicide,

May lots of tsking be supplied.