Outside my window
a murder of crows
wasting time cawing
when they could be flying
with the wind, Joe Cocker
Doris Day, and my old friend Leonard.
What the hell are they thinking
Edgar’s not around this little town?
He died once and never more
will he touch that wood bark whiskey
or sneak a peek at his neighbor’s wife,
Angry Fredrick called out,
“Edgar go to sleep and look away.
Katy’s Sepulcher keeps pawing
at your eyes.” He screamed so loud
the crows cawed like Nirvana
caught in a bloodbuzz Ohio breeze.