THE IMPETUS OF DOGGEREL
Doesn't anybody understand me? All I
want is a twenty-foot section of cyclone
fencing to call my own and wrap around
me. That's not so much to ask. I then could
babble on my own and forever be left alone.
Kept alone. Fenced in like a marsh-rat by
own imperious deeds. I could read with
flashlights late at night. I could eat with
cookie crumbs everywhere, and slather
butter on every slice of bread found.
-
It's all pretty simple. I'll fix your flat tires
if you fix my fencing. Nothing more need
be said. I can look at your petty wife's picture
on my mirror, and, in exchange, I'll offer you
every screwdriver I ever have touched. For
a few dollars more, I'll give you a drink.
Some fine, southern bourbon, if that's
what you like. Otherwise, I've got
Siberian water that I drink quite a lot.
But, if there's nothing else, I'll
take what you've got.
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