Some points of interest (or not):

• This is the first poem I’ve written in many moons. (In many suns, actually.) I tried to write one last year — “Harrison, Harrison, where can you be?” — but never finished.
• This poem took me about an hour to write. I had just started when I mentioned it at 8:12 in a comment on the last entry. I posted this entry at 9:04. Between these times, I mainly worked on the poem (though I did two price quotations.)
• The rhythm and rhyme scheme are intentional. I consciously broke the meter in at least one location (possibly two — I can’t remember). When I first started writing poetry in junior high, I was a strict adherent of rhyme. As I aged, rhyming became my enemy. Now that I am old and grey, I’ve come full circle: I believe a poem that adheres to a strict meter and rhyme scheme is generally superior to one that does not. Why? Because it is far more difficult to write. Far more. Blank verse and free verse are often lazy.
• I wanted a very funny ending, but instead delivered only a mildly amusing one. I am not Joel.
• This was fun to write.

And because of that last point, you can be certain you’ll see more poetry here in the future. 🙂

P.S. I quite like my title as it is ambiguous…

Replace the glass? Or give in to Scotch?

Neither.

The glass shop didn’t get my pane cut yesterday (though they called me first thing this morning to say it’s ready), so Jeremy and I removed the moulding (from the outside — the stuff I pried away from the inside really was part of the door), vacuumed up the glass, smoked on the porch — a good pipe soothes the soul — jawed about life, fixed some good steaks, drank some wine, and parted ways.

Funny story about the steaks:

I pulled the t-bones out of the freezer on Monday and stuck them in the fridge. On Tuesday morning, Kris checked them for me and decided they were too frozen still, so she set them on the counter. While we were at work, one (or more) of the cats decided that steak sounded like a fine snack. When we got home, the steaks were on the floor, unwrapped, well-chewed. Jeremy and I decided to eat them anyway. We left them on the counter while we worked. When we came back later, there was Simon, happy as can be, sitting on the counter and gnawing on a steak. Damn cat!

The steaks were great despite (or perhaps because of) the cat juice.

But enough of that: I wrote a poem! A poem! 🙂

Okay, two things. First, on the subject of cat-chewed steak: Ew!

Second, you should stop smoking. Everybody should stop smoking. Tobacco companies are just about as Evil as industry gets, the impact on your health is significant (what happened to losing weight and getting into shape?), and it’s setting a bad example for the kids in your life (like Hank & Scout). Plus, I bet Kris hates it.

Hmph.

A SMALL step like completing a single poem may lead to larger steps that take you to the places you want to be.

Enjoy your creation, it is the perfect poem today.

Is it intention that your poem randomly switches between an ABAB rhyming scheming and an AAABCCCB scheme? I find it disorienting.

Yes, I alternated the rhyme scheme intentionally. That is not to say it was a good choice, however.

The first two stanzas are section A, the second two stanzas are section B, and the third two stanzas are section C. Sections A and C use the same rhyme scheme and meter. Section B is like a bridge in a song, really. (And, in fact, at first I called this entry (and poem) “Song of the Skunk”.)

I’m not saying what I’ve done is good or right, but that it was done with a purpose. 🙂

Best.Blog.Ever.

(Really. I love the poem, even with the unusual rhyme scheme.)

One is tempted to think that if the skunks leave when the humans show up, perhaps the humans might want to close up whatever hole the stiny ones use for access…?

Dave, you cannot apply reason when discussing skunk poems. Not acceptable.

Here’s what kind of genius my brother, Tony, is:

He knows there’s a skunk under the office, he knows I’ve heard it moving around today, and what does he do? He comes in and jumps up and down on the floor.

Fucker.

I don’t think the thing sprayed or anything, but it definitely shifted. Nick and I noticed an increase in the intensity of the rank musk almost immediately.

sigh

And Dave: have you seen how much of the skirt is gone around the trailer house? It’d be a monumental task to close all the openings. Plus, if we did that, where would I get my weblog entries?

While I was working at the shop tonight, I specifically watched and listened and sniffed for any sign of skunks. There were a couple of times when a knock sounded and that most likely came from under the trailer because there were no other people around. However, there was no smell and I didn’t see any skunks at any time while I was there. Apparently they are kicking up their heels and spraying during the night or as your poem says, when they hear the human feet clomping overhead in the morning and decide they want to try to get rid of you. 🙂

What fun!

Oh Skunky, Skunky, wherefor art thou Skunky,
thou makest the trailer smell so funky.

Dressed in black with a white stripe there
you’re all dressed up for a stunning affair
never mind you’ve fur, not hair.

Oh Skunky, Skunky, wherefor art thou Skunky,
the smell in the office is so thick it’s gunky.

Though your odor may give others a fit
truth be told I don’t mind it a bit
even if it does smell like I’m standing in ca-ca.

You ain’t smelled nothin’ yet, JD. Just wait ’til you get to work today…

Something tells me I ought to call in sick.