The Maharaja is a Monkey

The cop car was at our mailbox and he was walking up to our door. All Shiny cap and Shiny shoes (And so clean. What scrub do they use? My St.Ives so doesn’t measure up). "What speed were you at?" My G almost yells at me. Little explanation note here: My husband didn’t always suspect my driving. A few little episodes in Chicago which involved some car totals, some appearances in court and those horrid 8 hour classes and some money (not much) have left my reputation scarred for life. My husband cares not for scars but he does care for my life, so I have since been under strict supervision. He forgets my recent misdemeanor. A misdemeanor that has changed me for life. I am now as law-abiding as a congressman running for presidency 2 weeks from now. The misdemeanor involved money and money really speaks to me. It speaks more loudly when you have a baby, a mortgage and a healthy passion for clothes. (I still contend that if I was doing 80 at an exit with that curvature, I would be flying off the road. It’s all simple physics but they don’t teach physics in the judge degrees obviously)

OK see now I’m all up in the air and a hundred miles from the point I was trying to make. The cops, they were at our door. Well, it turns out the little monster can’t wipe his own ass but he can use his little fingers to dial 911 in the half second that he had the phone before we pulled it away. And so MrG had to prove his innocence by displaying his infant son and happy wife and wholesome loving family. The neighbors might still think he is a wife-beater or something and the wife's sneaky call was this cry for help and that is so killing him. You need to know MrG to understand the extent of his misery here. As fate would have it three of our neighbors were out and about at that very instant that Shiny walked up to us. They were close but not close enough to have heard our funny story. So now MrG will lurk longer and longer at the mailbox waiting for a chance to explain that we are a respectable family. He waits for spring like none of us do as then he is sure to catch them outdoors. I asked him to just call all the neighbors and explain it all, as it was about time he had a full night’s rest. But he thinks that will make him look desperate. And that he is not. LOL!

Traces

As I did the rock and the pat tonight
The rhythm broke away in the middle
And instead my forefinger tapped away swiftly
Just like yours used to, when I was little

And then later in the semi-darkness
He was clipping his toenails, bent over the rails
He muttered softly almost to himself
"How can a baby have such thick nails?"

Still at the table after a meal at home
A meal that ended in curd and pickle
As the hour ticks and the conversation flows
My brother’s hand dries out, little by little

With each day more comes to light
Some imperfections seem perfectly right
Because it means there’s still a bit of you to see
In them, in him, and in me.