Poems by Bob Boyd

When I brought my new date, Linda, to my house,
my dog Moby kept growling at her. I apologized to
Linda and shut Moby away in a spare room. Linda
had brought some strawberry wine she made herself
for me to try, and it tasted so good that I drank three
glasses. But afterwards I got woozy and passed out.
When I woke up, Linda was gone with my laptop, my
wallet and other valuables I had in my house. Then I
let Moby out of the room and he wagged his tail happy
to see me but gave me a look that said I told you so.

Bob Boyd

An impoverished old man on Social Security visited
a thrift store to save some money on clothes. To his
surprise, the clothes were marked up almost as high
as in a department store. He checked the prices on
other items as well and felt like he was in the
Macy’s of thrift stores. Pissed. Seeing the store was
a rip off, he had no qualms ripping the store off for
two shirts and a pair of wing tip shoes. Because he
pretended to be feeble and walked with a cane, the
sales ladies didn’t suspect him of stealing. And he
hobbled out of the store, a Robin Hood for himself.

Bob Boyd

His aunt, slightly eccentric, had to have
everything just right, and if he didn’t
have something in the right place when
he put it back, she’d snap and he’d get
a quick slap. But the slaps didn’t hurt.
She was 87 and weak. He was 23 and
strong. His aunt was saintly the rest of
the time, so much so, she could have
been sainted. And when she died she
left him ten thousand dollars in her
will, which hurt more than the slaps.
He blew it all on whisky and women,
and the one he loved broke his heart,
when she left him after his inheritance
was gone, and he wished his aunt had
been alive to give him a quick slap when
he started wasting all that free money.

Bob Boyd

Young people partying in the streets of Soho, London,
cruising the bars, high on the merriment. No concerns.
Enjoy it while you can. Your world is closing in. Your
country is collapsing. People in prison for tweets. Be
careful what you say or write on the Internet. Military
age Muslim men, economic migrants, 46,000 in 2026,
invading your country, put up in hotels, given benefits
and money. A two-tier justice system. Good luck if you
are a patriot. You’re on the wrong side of woke politics,
and they call you Right Wing, as if an enemy of the
country you love and may have fought for. No matter.
And be careful about hoisting your country’s flag. It
might be against the law to do so, don’t want to offend
the foreigners who can fly their flags freely. You’re just
a citizen who pays taxes, and you’re probably British
white, another strike against you. And J D Vance and
others believe you’ll be the first Muslim country with
nukes. Even Big Ben knows your time is running out.
And soon your lives will be in shambles. So party on
in Soho while you still can.

Bob Boyd

You think you got troubles? Thank your lucky stars
you weren’t born a feeder goldfish.

Not good enough to be a privileged upper class,
pedigree goldy, considered unfit for a proper pet.

Screwed from the day you were born for one
purpose – to be eaten by a bigger fish.

Imprisoned in a glass gulag, no way out, no escape,
except death by being eaten.

So the next time you take a hissy over a bad hair day,
or some goofball leaving you that you were better

off without anyway, thank your lucky stars you
weren’t born a feeder goldfish.

Bob Boyd

I see the bees carrying pollen attached to both their hind legs,
like little yellow buckets.

I learn bees work 6 to 8 hours finding the pollen and flying
it to their hives with those pollen pellets stuck to their legs.

I wonder how they got the kind of endurance that enables
them to fly with those pellets weighing 30% of their weight

and fly the six to eight hours daily with those heavy loads,
perhaps they start as bee young’uns and carrying only

10% of their weight and gradually work up to the 30%. And
I wonder if they get paid for their work.

Maybe they get paid piecemeal (pollenmeal?), or a
good hourly rate with overtime after 6 hours.

I hope they don’t do all that labor-intensive work for free.

Bob Boyd

At first

you’re blown away

by her beauty

but in time

that blown away

feeling fades

and you

see beyond

the superficial

beyond

the beauty

three times

I experienced this

three times

I was

disappointed

after I saw

what was

deeper than

their beauty

what was

inside their

pretty heads

Bob Boyd

I was married to a woman named Ruth once,
looking back she was probably the nicest woman

I’d ever been with.

Except

she was an extrovert and I am mostly an introvert.

So

after she got a new job and met a lot of girlfriends,
she began spending more time with them than with me.

And

after being lonely together, eventually I left her,
and sadly decades later in her early fifties she died.

Now

I wonder if we meet in the afterlife would her having
been an extrovert and me an introvert on earth matter?

And would we have another go at love and would it
fare better in the afterlife than it did on earth?

Bob Boyd

In my waning years, a few, maybe many, sometimes I think I’d
like to have one last shot at finding true love.

For example, that one last shot with the soulmate I never
found in this life.

And, maybe, just maybe, if she or I died first, when
the one remaining died, we’d be together forever.

But then I think what if you fell in love with a woman
and she gave you no end of misery and trouble,

and you went out of this life disappointed and pissed off?
And I cease the idealized, wishful, foolish thinking.

Bob Boyd

I read mice build holes in houses near gaps in houses,
utility lines, pipes, etc. I imagine plans for the holes
are drawn up by engineer mice for the locations,
the desirability, and the accessibility.

I imagine construction mice, probably unionized,
do the actual building of the holes and homes inside
the holes.

I imagine interior designer mice finish the houses
with their special skills and flourishes.

And, last, I picture families of mice buying the
holed homes with whatever money or barter
mice use for commerce.

Bob Boyd

When you made the fatal mistake
to what love we had left

by telling me to use my fucking head

you didn’t know that aside from pissing me off
and getting a strong rebuke from me

your disrespectful words sounded the death knell
for our marriage already in peril

due to you letting your body go into
obscene obesity

and once you remarked that you would get in
shape for a new man if our marriage ended

probably as a warning that you could find
another

but you didn’t know that in my heart and mind
the marriage was over

and soon I’d find another and leave you for that
unforgivable use your fucking head affront.

Bob Boyd

He had weird psycho eyes that were
unblinking and disturbingly bright.

Yet a lot of fools followed him, believing
his insane claims they were all aliens

and needed to relocate to their real
home on some other faraway planet.

They drank the poison they called elixir
that they thought would take them there,

but instead of journeying to that world,
they landed in the world of the dead.

Bob Boyd

I have made a teddy bear world, and for me it’s like
a brief return to the innocence of childhood

that feels so pure and nice, and I wonder if that is
the same feeling I’ll feel in the afterlife.

Bob Boyd

I often wonder what we do in the afterlife.
Where do we live? Do we sleep, and do we
run into people we didn’t like or wouldn’t
want to meet in the afterlife?

My all consuming hope is that we don’t
see people we didn’t want to see in the
mysterious afterlife.

And I don’t believe that people who were
annoying, jerks, or just plain mean
become automatically nice in the afterlife.

But Mike McHugh, Joe Drew, already there,
I hope I see you. And at least one of the
women that I should have been with
but didn’t know she was interested in me
until it was too late.

And I think maybe spirits sleep on beds
and pillows made of the softest cumulus
clouds ever.

And maybe between sending blessings
to all those in the world, you bliss out
the rest of the times in surreal fields of
wonderment, peace and ineffable joy.

Bob Boyd

You and I were so long ago you’re barely a memory,
and though I lost respect for you decades ago

when you cheated on me with that college guy even
though you said you were going to marry me,

sometimes I wonder how your life went and it you’re still
alive in this world.

But then I regain my senses, and I see that we were
so long ago that how your life went does not matter to me.

Yet once in a great while, maybe decades a while, I do
wonder how your life went.

But I suspect if I were to know, I’d find out that I really
didn’t want to know after all.

Bob Boyd

The Sun is a son of a bitch today, scorching everything
in sight.

Steam is rising off the streets and unwary aphids,
caught in its killer rays are melting.

Ants, butterflies, worms, spiders, cockroaches, etc,
are all taking cover

under leaves, inside plants, trees, and even in houses;
some are buried deep in the cool ground.

Me, I’m just sitting here with two powerful stand up fans,
blasting the heat the hell off of me

and waiting for that son of a bitch sun to get over his
hot hissy fit and cool down!

Bob Boyd

I saw an orange dog in a dream.
He was long, lean and curious.
I was sitting in a mall and
he was limping toward me
with his eyes fixed on me inquisitively.
I didn’t know if he wanted food or
to be affectionately petted.
When he had limped up to me,
I extended my dream hand to
pet him, but he and the dream vanished.
Maybe seeing that curious orange dog
in the dream was a fortuitous omen,
something good coming my way,
like a lovely, older woman with orange hair
who writes poetry sitting in a wooden chair.
Maybe I’ll meet her when I go to the
grocery store tonight. Fingers crossed.

Bob Boyd

At first he found

her selfless love

endearing

but after a while

he found it

annoying

but actually

the problem

wasn’t her

it was him.

Bob Boyd

I saw a haunted doll on eBay. The ad read sweet, loving
protective doll $25.00 or best offer. $6.66 shipping fee.

The doll’s name was Jennifer, and we seemed to have
an unseen sympatico when I stared into her eyes.

And I became possessed with love for Jennifer, as if
she was my soulmate locked in that doll

just waiting for me to buy her and bring my love home
to lonely, womanless me.

At first, I was euphoric and Jennifer was too, but after
the excitement died down and our true selves came out

Jennifer, perhaps not surprisingly for a haunted doll,
had a darker side.

After countless arguments and her threats and curses,
I began waking up every morning vomiting

and with welts and bruises all over my body that I knew
somehow that cursed, haunted Jennifer did to me.

So I bagged her in a garbage bag and tossed her in
the trash before I went to work only to find her back

in my house and swearing and hating me more than ever
because of my garbage-like treatment of her.

So, I’m selling Jennifer on eBay for a buck and quarter
with no shipping fees and my good luck blessings.

And, look at it this way, maybe you’d have better luck
with Jennifer than I did and find the love of your life in her.

Bob Boyd

So there I was noticing my nails needed to be cut again
and getting a bit peeved, thinking about how I’m tired

of cutting these finger and toe nails over and over and
over and over and over again.

Then I thought to myself at least I won’t have to cut
these finger and toe nails when I’m dead.

And I began thinking about other things I’d be glad about
when I”m dead.

For example, no longer living in a body machine that keeps
breaking down the older I get.

Not having to constantly buy food to feed this always
hungry body.

And not have to suffer the indignity of always having to
urinate and defecate.

No more bills to pay. No bad news that pisses me off.
And no wanting and not wanting to be with a woman.

I could list hundreds more, but I’ll spare you the boredom
that you’d be glad about not having to hear when dead.

Bob Boyd