Pop Quiz

When fish swim in the dark
do they bump into things?

Why are the Swiss the only nation with an army knife
when all nations have armies?

When an influencer receives more likes than New York City
is that influencer a media center?

Why do so many people show up to Happy Hour
and spill their sadness all over the bar?

How does burning sage and spreading its oil-smudged smoke
cleanse a room or any other location?

Am I old enough that when I behave like an idiot
people will believe I am simply confused?

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Empty Fob Hangs From The Rearview Mirror

On Easter
each year
we massacre
numerous
chocolate bunnies
of various sizes
and cacao percents.

If they were not hollow
I would eat their hearts first

on the theory
there is more rabbit luck
in the heart
than in a rabbit’s foot.

The one solid
chocolate bunny
I did find
had no individual organs.
I used my
Swiss Army knife
to cut a heart
out of the body
and mounted it
on a key chain
but my luck ran
all over the dashboard
the first day
the sun heated
the car’s interior
to one hundred
and four degrees.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Going Home From The Park

I pulled a robin from my throat.
I set it in my child’s red wagon.

My child sat next to the robin red breast
in the red wagon.

She petted the bird like it was a dog.
The robin rolled over for a belly scratch.

I pulled the red wagon out of the parking place
and into a parade.

A parade bereft of clowns.
The parade marshaled several marching bands.

I pulled the red wagon into line
behind the tuba players.

Alabama. Crimson Tide. Um-pah! Um-pah!
Roll Tide. Roll down the street.

The tuba players pushed milky white notes
out of their brass instruments.

Their swiveling marching routine
blended the notes into an aural milkshake.

My child in the red wagon clapped.
She gulped down the music.

The robin sang in competition
rather than in harmony.

When the parade reached our apartment
I bent-arm signaled a right turn.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Park

Sundays, after breakfast
we go to the park instead of church.

The park did not invite us
and felt put upon.

Its interest was in birds
especially flocks.

Enough of us responded
to meet-up text messages

that we began to resemble
a flock of geese.

The park complained
our outfits were not uniform

and the girls should not be wearing
manly bright mating colors.

In an effort to appease the park
we began singing

love songs to attract a mate
though none of us

intended to nest
where the park could observe

eggs hatching
or the antics of fledglings.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Cardio

One chamber of my heart
nests three of four hamsters
where they rest in a furry ball
with pink noses sticking out.

The second chamber
holds the wheel
where the on-duty hamster
runs to keep the power on.

A third chamber
acts as a pantry to store
greens and seeds
the hamsters enjoy.

The fourth has a nozzle
that leads back to a hollow rib
that I refill daily
with fresh water.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

Schizophrenic Dopey

On a snow white morning,
I woke up and realized,
once and for all time,
that I was Grumpy!

This truth was quickly confirmed
when I discovered
the decapitated bodies
of six metaphysical midgets
strewn about my one-room house,
their floppy hats covered
rigor mortise erections,
and all their hi-ho smiles
were wiped from their contorted faces—

The raven-haired beauty
slept in someone else’s bed,
dreaming she had escaped
the poison apple.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

Revolution

The doormat is tired of being a doormat.
It petitions Paul for a throw rug promotion.

The butternut squash soup informs Paul
its is now tomato bisque.

Paul is relieved when the shower
changes to a stationary rain storm.

His fork wishes to be a flyswatter
but is open to being a trident to spear moths.

The last straw occurs when Paul’s
Cubs World Series Champions t-shirt

informs him it is now a little black dress
and he should purchase a pair of spiked heals.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney