Bruce McGuffin


The White Bear Blues

It’s hard times for the polar bear,
And soon it won’t live anywhere.
The melting ice cap means no meals
Of fat and tasty arctic seals,
Without which bears just waste away.
Then when they’re gone, they’re gone to stay.

I’ve got those dwindling white bear blues.
I’m sorry that I had to choose.
I drive my full-sized SUV
And think of white bears wistfully.

To the Mouse in My Garage

Begone, You Wretched Rodent who
Lives in my garage and likes to chew
On wires found inside my car.
And let me add it seems bizarre,
This choice of yours, because you chewed
On auto parts and not on food.
Nor do these wires pass the test
For fluffy bits to build a nest,
A hidden soft and warm location
For resting from your depredation.

My car, though loaded with appeal
Falls short regarded as a meal.
I could, if need be, sleep inside.
But what I’d like to do is ride.
And that’s the thing I cannot do.
My car won’t go because of you.

Today I bought a wire trap,
The kind that closes with a snap.
I’ll cater to your strange desire
And bait it with ignition wire.
Tomorrow if you’re not retired
You will, at least, be firmly wired.

Bruce McGuffin’s poetry has appeared in Light, Lighten Up Online, The Asses of Parnassus, Better Than Starbucks, Snakeskin, The Lyric, Blue Unicorn, and other journals. He divides his time between Lexington, MA, where he works as an engineer in a radio factory, and Antrim, NH, where he writes poetry and avoids being useful.