In verse: Maine places and people

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Produced by Dennis Camire

This week’s poem is by Bob MacLaughlin of Clifton. His most recent book is “Faulty Wiring” published by Moon Pie Press.

 

At War With The Town Snow Plow

By Bob MacLaughlin

 

I know it waits, its engine idling,

Up the road

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Around the bend

Out of sight

While I shovel out mailbox

And driveway until every inch

Is clear and perfect.

 

I know the moment I’m back indoors

It will come roaring downhill

Gathering large chunks

Of heavy dirty snow and ice

To bury my masterpiece

In a hit-and-run gauntlet of rubble.

 

There’ll even be a busted branch

Sticking out of the nasty pile

Like a tongue

Taunting, “Na-na, na-na, na-na!”

 

Charging back into battle,

My shovel raised like a lance,

I’ll sling explosive epithets ahead of me

Though the truck will have

Already disappeared over the rise.

 

Later, just as I’m excavating

The mailbox again

And chopping down the blockade

So we can get our cars out,

The plow will speed by

On the other side of the road.

 

The driver will smile and wave.

And so will I.

 

Dennis Camire can be reached at [email protected]

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