This Is Prosaic

This Is Prosaic

From what I heard the men talking about under the house
Installing our new furnace, old after twenty years and not bad
As furnaces go, older than the oldest of dogs, so when one of them
came up from the dampness and dust for a breather, I asked him if he’d seen
Any sign of varmints down there and he hadn’t but reported a lot of rabbit
Sized droppings, which I tell him are surely squirrels because we hear
Them chewing away in the wainscoting to tell us hey are here again
For the winter, the way the moles let us know they’re here again
In the spring, just like how the Jacob’s heating truck got stuck
In the turnaround, happens all the time, such as when our oldest
Son, learning to drive, backed the VW bus into my studio
And we had to winch him out and his mother did the same thing not to
Mention how I backed twice into the same alder on different days as though
To celebrate turning fifty, and so this is sounding more or less like Stein
And Faulkner mixed and now I’ve finished this run on sentence I hope for good
Ness sake and a quieter more heat efficient future, counting rebates.

-T.C.Buell

BACK TO POEMS PAGE