Leprechauns in Pop's Fedora
For years leprechauns lived
under Pop’s fedora.
They danced jigs on his head
when he wore it
and hid in his ears
when he took it off
to scratch his head
then jumped back up
to dance a few reels
when he took it off
for another good scratch.
Leprechauns dancing
confused my mother.
She thought Pops
had ringworm or lice
and should see a doctor.
The attendant said no
ringworm or lice but said
Pop might look odd
wearing a hat in his coffin.
Thoughts While Waiting in the ER
You thought you knew her.
She thought she knew you.
Neither was true
but this happens at times
at Happy Hour on Fridays
after a long week of work.
The rapport was strong.
Amazing, you thought.
She might be someone
you’d see more than once.
She had a nice apartment
or maybe it was a condo
a big double bed
with a canopy yet.
You slept soundly until
the key in the door
and from the other pillow
you heard a whisper,
“He’s not expected
until late next week.”
In the Mood
We're going dancing, my wife and I,
to a Charity Ball high in the sky where
Glenn Miller's band has been playing
since 1944, the year his plane got lost
over the English Channel.
No wreckage was ever found,
not a single body.
Glenn Miller was going to France
to play for American troops
during World War II.
Government records say
he's still "missing in action."
Maybe so, but I hate to go dancing,
even with music by Glenn Miller.
So I told my wife I'll go if she
can find a dress as red
as the one she wore in 1956
when Father Hennessy said,
"This is a prom. Not burlesque."
A slip of a girl back then,
she made things worse
with black seamed nylons.
All the rage back then, the nylons
disturbed the padre.
But if my wife can find a bright red dress
and a pair of black seamed nylons,
I'll wear the old seersucker suit
I bought at Macy's for the prom.
It goes real well with the "duck tie"
I found "on sale" for 50 cents
at the Army Surplus store.
Father Hennessy loved that tie.
Even now I can hear him bellow,
"That tie's so wide the ducks
will fly for 50 years to cross it."
How prescient the padre was.
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.
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