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  • Gary Hunter

Save the WD-40 - June 20, 2020

I never oil my front gate

because I enjoy her opinions

that morning groan as I retrieve the paper

a quick snicker if I’m catching a ride

if I’ve forgotten why I’ve come out

she teases with tiny whoops

her form of down-scaled mockery

when it rains like us her thoughts

gather and together stare at the gray

impatiently holding a long sigh

late afternoon the mail truck

rumbles to a stop I open the front door

enter a post-nasal cloud pull her roped

metal handle head to my box

to anyone within earshot

her silence says it all

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