Vocal Quirks

If we bartered our voices, like garters or hats
The duck might trade his for the mouse’s
Imagine him squeak, with his big old duck beak
While “quacks” came from cracks in the houses

Alas, I'm Easygoing

Alas, I'm easygoing
There’s not much that I mind
I keep my molehills molehills
I generally don’t whine
And yet I can’t help feeling
(Though it must sound idiotic)
That I would like, just sometimes
To be a bit neurotic
Now I’m not talking crazy
That’s not my cup of tea
Instead, I’d fancy being
Just a little OCD
I’d follow the food pyramid
And rarely eat desserts
And pick off hair and bits of lint
From other peoples’ shirts
Before eating at a restaurant
I’d inspect its every nook
And ask, “Do you put MSG
in anything you cook?”
I’d check the price of everything
I’d only shop on sales
And I’d lotion up my cuticles
Before I cut my nails
I’d always shut the toilet seat
And put my clothes on hooks
And I’d never ever ever
Break the spine on any book
I’d organize my DVDS
By year and by director
I’d put them all in cases
And their cases in protectors
I never would wear white with black
Or navy blue with gold
And I’d carry earmuffs always
Just in case I should feel cold
I’d shine my shoes three times a day
With purebred camel spit
And for every different pan
I’d have a different oven mitt
I’d sanitize my doorknobs
And I’d measure out my peas
And one-by-one electrocute
My cat’s and puppy’s fleas
I’d never step on sidewalk cracks
Or grass, or turf, or soil
And I’d wrap up all my leftovers
With anti-wrinkle foil
I’d take at least three showers
After every time I sneezed
And get blood tests every other day
To see if I’m diseased
Yes, I wish I were fastidious
Nit-picky and Type A
But alas, I’m imperturbable
Guess I was born that way.

Fear of Bubbles

I’m terrified of bubbles

The awful way they gleam

The horrid popping sound they make

It makes me want to scream

I can’t stand watching fish exhale

Or babies blow their spit

And carbonated sodas

Make me nearly throw a fit

Just thinking about hot tubs

Makes me whimper like a pup

I don’t even bathe or shower

In case bubbles might show up

But what I don’t get is why

The others hate me for my fear

Why do they hold their nose and run

Whenever I come near?

I found a ghost

I found a ghost, loitering
I feared
from his blank look, slouch, and drool
that he was stark raving bonkers;
but to be sure, I asked him
“Has your brain turned to mush?”
He replied: “Mush, mush!” giggled, and clapped.
So that’s how I knew.