The car needs an oil change,
but that is irrelevant.
Your cat mat needs to be washed,
which is a serious matter.
The exhibition about crane flies
at the Carnegie Museum
is of no concern to you.
Your mouse is wedged under the sofa,
which is an emergency.
The destabilization of a foreign country:
neither here nor there --
or, more correctly, decidedly not here,
not in your house, not on your street,
and hence quite beside the point.
The melting of polar ice: not pertinent.
The keyboard cluttering your desk: an insult.
Your chin turned toward my hand
so that I might stroke it:
imperative that action is taken at once.
The supernova in M101?
A topic of monumental insignificance.
The death of our own sun
in six billion years? Yawn.
The assertion that the yogurt
is not yours: preposterous.
The further claim that the chicken
is not yours: vile heresy.
The delay in your supper time: contemptible.
Recent allegations that you are portly
and should diet:
monstrous, insolent, outrageous lies.
(First published in Songs of Eretz Poetry Review)