Neighbors

Old man Clyde trims his lawn with shears,
Wears nothing but boots and frontier beers.
Miss Patty spies with her drone at night,
Claims it’s for “zoning”–we say it ain’t right.
They painted their fence neon pink and black,
To ward off coyotes… or a panic attack.
The Simmons kids ride llamas in town,
Blame our chickens when things go down.
Neighbor Bob hosts raves in his shed,
Claims the bass helps his sourdough bread.
Miss Jean raises cats in tiny hats,
And sues if your dog so much as chats.
We once caught Jed diggin’ holes at three,
Said he was “prepping for property-free.”
The mayor moved in, brought city flair,
Now his mailbox’s a urinal chair.
Our block’s a mix of weird and wild,
With bylaws written by a fevered child.
So we nod and wave and duck stray pies,
It’s called “community”–and lawsuits arise.

Alan Nafzger (editor@bohiney.com)

Last Updated on May 31, 2021 by Alan Nafzger