A Poem of Vandals
Everything was empty today
but in a good way.
The air was still, the sun was warm
Some loose ends resolved,
and nobody horrified me.
At least not in person.
And, and, and
I think somebody stole my dog’s chicken last night
I left it out, and yes, I know about the bones, please don’t lecture, but it was
and it disappeared.
He was haunting me all day about dinner.
I think somebody stole
my dog’s chicken.
Jumped the fence
and then just took it back
to the family stewpot.
Well, okay. I’m good with that.
If somebody needed my dog’s chicken that badly
they are welcome to it.
Like when they stole my swamp cooler
that was broken, also over all the locked gates of the four foot chain link fence
and lost the electrical cord in the process.
If you need it that bad, and it’s in my yard, I’m good with your
Because what is this ownership thing about, anyway?
Shouldn’t we be asking more questions about it?
What gives me the right to own
this little fraction of an acre, with its aching houses?
What gives me the right to refuse to allow
transients to come in and pitch tents, and lend their skills to preserving this fragile enterprise?
What gives anybody the right to assume
that such people would be useless?