Tuesday, November 20, 2012

poem of the day 11.20.12


bobby mueller had these
two doberman pinchers
that he’d sick on us
whenever we walked passed his house

you’d hear a whistle from the porch
and then these two salivating beasts
would come tearing across the yard

smacking off the fence
foaming at the mouth
trying to get at you before you knew
what was happening.

no one knew what made bobby do this

he was troubled people said
there were family issues
the kid was just a world class asshole

when he wasn’t sicking the dobermans on us
bobby would ride around in his old man’s car
and throw his garbage at us

mcdonald’s bags full of half-eaten food
the carton of eggs he’d bought at foodland
or WD40 canisters from his backseat

in the winter he throw snowballs at us kids
that were laced with rocks and other sundry items
just to give them an extra sting when they hit
off of your cold and red face

or he’d toss icicles like they were darts

but nothing was as bad as watching those two
goddamned dogs come charging at you

looking at the mueller’s weak fence as it shook
the gray foam on the beasts’  jowls
their yellow fangs snapping at air but hoping for flesh

listening to bobby’s laughter on the porch
as he chain smoked winstons
and asked you if you’d pissed your pants yet

knowing that you probably had before you tore off back home

his slick laughter trailing you
the convenience store and baseball cards be damned

when bobby took his own life on new year’s eve
in that devil car with the motoring running in the garage

a lot of us kids
were more relieved than saddened
as our parents sat us down to make sense of it

it was like a war had ended
peace had somehow been restored
our trivial civilization saved
from strawberry milkshake molotov cocktails
snowballs with rusty razors hidden in their core

or the snap and strangle of those dobermans
who now stayed in the mueller home most of the time
looking out of darkened windows

or when they were in the yard
paced around the muddy landscape
with thick chains around their necks

while all of us emboldened bastard kids
taunted them like paper tough guys

happy to have the vigor and fight
drained from their stealth and murderous bodies

now that their master was gone to heaven
like all of those fat priests said he had.


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