The Caviar Thief





With the darting eyes of felony,
He, furtive, walked on cat's feet,
Gripping an hors d'oeuvres plate.
Then, epee quick,
He scraped nearly all the caviar
Onto his plate,
Leaving behind the garnishes
And a hint of the roe that once was there.


Call Me Britannica





If,
As the old saw says,
We learn from our mistakes,
I've gotta be
"The Smartest Guy Around,"
For I've filled a warehouse with errors,
Generating a cottage industry
Of books that were written
To right the things that I got wrong...
    Like all the things that Edison did
    That I said couldn't be done
    That sailing west wouldn't get you east,
    That airplanes couldn't possibly fly
    That glacial ice would always be ice.
But learning from all the mistakes I made
I'm once again,
"The Smartest Guy Around."
And, though, I'll make some future mistakes
About Artificial Intelligence, blockchain, 
Flying taxis, the metaverse, etcetera,
I'll have a host of folks
To true up the muddle
Of my new mistakes
And keep me as,
"The Smartest Guy Around."

A Kitten in the Mouth of a Cat Named Caesar





A kitten transported
By the nape of its neck
In the mouth of a cat named Caesar...
Meant the well-being of the kitten
was up to a moody, inscrutable cat.
Thumbs up or thumbs down,
We, breathless, awaited
The will of the cat.

On Being Pedantic





He said,
Before reciting a fact,
    If I'm not mistaken,
By which he meant, 
He rarely was...
A smug conceit...
So I checked him quick
On Wikipedia.

It Was Gone…But Then It Wasn’t





Hail to thee,
Miss Allison P.,
Who rescued me
From standing on line at the DMV
To replace a license
That fell from the safety of my wallet,
Evidently dreaming of a carefree life, 
Living on its own.
But it was corralled by Allison P. 
Before it got too far from me
And resides once again
Behind an acetate window,
Blissfully glancing at the world beyond,
Whenever I open my wallet.

It’s the New Normal…Enjoy





Now is the time to relax and enjoy
The benefits of a warming planet...
Balmy Canadian winters,
The tinder-burst of California forests,
The creep of high tides into Miami living rooms.
Sunscreen will now start at SPF 500
And be layered as thick as mayonnaise,
Since waves of UV rays come in 
Through ozone as thin as Saran.
But, surely, there will be benefits, too...
Like frying eggs on a Honda's hood,
Or crisping fries on a window sill,
Or heating up a swimming pool,
So hot you can't swim in it.
Golf'll only be played at night;
Baseball will be played
In vast subterranean stadia,
Dug in places where permafrost once was.
And won't we be thrilled to have warm beer again...
Since bars will be as scorching hot  
As cracked earth in Death Valley,
And 'frigid' will be dropped from the dictionary.

Either You Are…Or You Aren’t





Morty Ersatz was
"Mostly Honest",
Given that he promised kith and kin
That he would give up his daily beer,
But couldn't imagine
They'd hold him to it.
And Shaver Chesney was
"Somewhat Modest".
But given his strong chin and light blue eyes,
He, immodestly, smiled and even winked
At his reflection in the mirror.
Pretty Betty Garrity,
"Nearly Virtuous"
Had good impulses,
But sometimes, silly girl, she responded
With smiles and more
To the most inane sweet talk and flattery.
    Honest, Modest and Virtuous
    Are wonderful qualities, clearly...
    But are tarnished a tad, 
    When modified by...
    Mostly, Somewhat and Nearly.