Sometimes at night I think of her,
And how our lives converged:
A brief encounter on the road
Where lanes of traffic merged.
She caught my eye. I felt a spark,
An instant, strong connection.
She rolled her window down and gaily
Waved in my direction,
Then smiled and yelled, “You’d better yield—
My car is old and dented.”
I smiled at her as I yelled back,
“It is! But my car’s rented.”
My loud and late-night saxophone
Practice sessions help me hone
My skill, such as it is, and yet
My surly neighbors who don’t get
That constant practice is the key,
And how this work is helping me,
Complain so bitterly. My sound
Is getting better and it’s bound
As time goes by to get so good
That people in my neighborhood
Won’t call the cops each time I play.
I’m looking forward to that day.
But now each practice session gets
An avalanche of ugly threats.
Some mention lawsuits, and of course
A few bad apples threaten force.
I’ve seen the error of my ways.
I’ll trade dark nights for sunny days:
To bed at sunset, up at dawn
As shadows creep across the lawn.
I hope that folks appreciate
My schedule change. I won’t play late.
Responding to my neighbor’s warning,
I played at four o’clock this morning.
What The Dog Said
Last night when we had company
You had a bad attack of gas
And claimed that awful stench was me.
Sure, blame the dog! You’re such an ass.
I thought about it all night long.
Then I did something not too nice,
But what you did was also wrong,
And now your carpet’s paid the price.