Wrong Proverb

A Reader writes:

Dear Sir:

         Is there any subject upon which you will not comment?”

My Dear Reader: 

         “Yes”  …(another little joke.)


For the last several days, over on the path in the Park that goes from the pond to the speaker’s area, there’s been this chap standing silently by a semi-sentient oak with a professionally painted sign about his neck that reads, “Farewells Are Not Worth The Wind They’re Written On.”


To be totally forthcoming,
there’s yet another City substitute
for enthusiasm that I should mention –


Once, while visiting your city, I stayed in a neighborhood where one little kid used to play every afternoon on the paved sidewalk, just in front of his ole man’s pretensions; many days he’d skip and jump back and forth while clapping his hands and chanting (when he could get the words out) “In-con-gru-ous-ness will be our ruin-ous-ness…”


Don’t look out the window,
just remember: a barking dog
gathers no moss
whether he’s illogical, sequential,
or even in the wrong proverb.


Everyone’s brain
is their own Mediterrane.



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