More about the
depredations of power, and yeah, yeah, yeah, for heaven’s sake, I get it. And what
is with this testicles thing? Some guys, you know, they buy a shiny new red
Ferrari, maybe have a meaningless affair. Others write Pulitzer Prize poetry
and figuratively castrate their characters—over, and over, and over. To each
his own, I guess. Here is my response to all of that this morning:
Nuts
No more ifs, or ands, or
buts
Fuzzy gráy squirrels
loves their nutsAcorns, beeches, butternuts
Walnuts, hazels, macadamia
Filberts: squirrels go crazy over ya,
Almonds, pecans, cashews too
Crack ‘em open, then they chew
Sparkly bulging victim’s eyes
Gnawing down that oily prize
Who’s a squirrel without his nuts?
Weakly clamb’rin’, chatt’rin’ putz
Runnin’ from the neighbor’s mutts
Out the tree and on his head:
Nutless rodent…
Cat food…
Dead.
KZ
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