DOG’S BREAKFAST
I dilly-dally
over my
dog’s
breakfast
as always,
make a meal of it,
(my mind
seemingly hard-
wired to
continually
blow a fuse)
my Father
with his much electrical skill
and seventh Dan
in being a parent
gives me
the standard tutorial:
how superior he is to
me
in every
Universe and
every Dimension
easy then
to see
jump to
prognosis
by way
of diagnosis
why my
worldly and
spiritual achievements
should not amount
to a heap of
beans (cheap
tin of baked, or the
designer red kidney)
not without trying
however
for as it
has always been my father’s dictum
(contra that green
Star Wars idiot)
try,
try,
try
but you
will not succeed