While sitting home one night, I hear burglars fiddling
with the lock. This is what I've been waiting for!
I run around to the back and open the door, invite
them in, and pour some drinks. I tell them to relax,
and I help them off with shoes and masks.
In a little while we are fast friends, and after a dozen
toasts to J. Edgar Hoover, they begin to carry things out.
I point to the hidden silver, hold the door as they
wrestle with the bed, and generally make myself useful.
When they get the truck loaded and come back inside
for one last brandy, I get the drop on them. Using Spike's
gun, I shoot them both and imprint Blackie's
prints on the handle.
Then I get in the van and drive away,
a happy man.
"Moving Day" by Ron Koertge, from Making Love to Roget's Wife: Poems New and Selected. © University of Arkansas Press, 1997.
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
While sitting home one night, I hear burglars fiddling
with the lock. This is what I've been waiting for!
I run around to the back and open the door, invite
them in, and pour some drinks. I tell them to relax,
and I help them off with shoes and masks.
In a little while we are fast friends, and after a dozen
toasts to J. Edgar Hoover, they begin to carry things out.
I point to the hidden silver, hold the door as they
wrestle with the bed, and generally make myself useful.
When they get the truck loaded and come back inside
for one last brandy, I get the drop on them. Using Spike's
gun, I shoot them both and imprint Blackie's
prints on the handle.
Then I get in the van and drive away,
a happy man.
"Moving Day" by Ron Koertge, from Making Love to Roget's Wife: Poems New and Selected. © University of Arkansas Press, 1997.