poem of the day 10.09.13

hack job

he calls my wife

while we’re on 3^rd avenue

drinking root beer and  ginger beer

in the hot autumn sun

the cat is ready, my wife says

when we pick her up

she starts meowing and hissing

clawing at the cage

at the sound of our voices

the cat groomer is too scared

to put her in the carrier

maybe you should do it, he lisps

so i do

without looking at the shave job

i couldn’t do her legs, he whines

she just wouldn’t let me

the cat is fifteen years-old

half-blind

with kidney problems

…but okay

we apologize and pay the man

while a bichon frise barks and whines

because it knows it’s next in line

when we get home

we see that all four of the animal’s legs

are unevenly shaved

and there are clumps of fur all over her body

jesus, look what that queen did to her

i say to my wife

we could’ve done this kind of damage ourselves, she says

if this weren’t such a horrible hack job

it would almost be funny

but this motherfucker got eighty-dollars out of us

i should go up there and complain, my wife says

go on yelp and rip his business a new one

as the cat prances around the room

like a bad shag rug from 1976

like a dancer with two different go-go boots on

what good would it do? i say

what’s done is done

i think about the ginger beer and root beer

that we were unable to finish

consolation prizes for not drinking for two days

that was four more dollars

that cat groomer caused us

i think i should probably go up there

and fix his ass good

save that bichon frise from the same fate

i mean eighty-fours bucks is no slouch

but it’s too goddamned hot

this late in the year

and i’m thinking today might be the day

where i start drinking again

after all.