Midnight Poetry

The airport moved to Cleveland.

          It happens all the time.

The ones I feel sorry for

          are those who changed the signs.

 

Some must be so simple:

            No Smoking

            No Parking

            No Standing or Walking

 

Others must take lots of time.

            ‘Airport next left,’ must now add:

                        ‘and then, drive two blocks, and then, turn left at Denny’s, and then…’

They must use lots of ‘and then’s’.

 

Measuring all those new distances must be hard.

Sometimes when I have something really long to measure,

          like a lacrosse field,

          or poems by Milton.

I take several tape measures and tape them end to end.

 

But that always confuses the cats,

            and then, they get all judgmental,

and then, the questions begin:

Always with the, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

                        And then, “do you really need a comma between each ‘and then’?

 

I know a guy named Cummins who used to buy his commas by the bucket.

 

 

I wonder if baggage claim will still be in the same place,

or did they just move the runways?

and those confusingly numbered gates?

 

Seriously, who would put the odd-numbered gates on the left and even on the right?

            Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

And how can gates 30-99 all fit behind the same door?

 

                                             This poem cost me some valuable sleep.

 

They say write when inspiration strikes,

     but how could topics like Cleveland and Cats come from pure inspiration?

Plus, it started at two a.m.,

     and that time is already reserved

               for the Shopping Channel,

               or maybe Solitaire.

 

Again, the cats with their judgmental looks.

     What do they know of poetry or the shopping channel?

          A flick of Bronte’s tail challenges:

                        “What do you know about poetry?

                        “And is garbage recycling tomorrow or next week?

 

                                             I don’t have time for this.

 

Just a single flick of a tail – That’s efficient communication.

     I bet Bronte never bought commas by the bucket.

 

 

This poem is nearly over –

     I’ve run all out of commas –

     And I never figured out the semicolon.

     Plus-

          I just remembered-

          I don’t even have cats.

                         - And garbage pickup was yesterday.