The Bradford Tea Kettle Fiasco!
As you remember, Dear Reader, we used to meet at Mommy's every Sunday around 1 pm, after Scott and I watched Film Noir, with Eddie Muller.
I sent Eddie a letter thother day on New Directions stationery.
I still use my marvelous whistling tea kettle. In fact, my hands are shaking a teeny bit from drinking too much coffee.
Is that true?
Not sure.
Anyway, my tea kettle was rejected at Mom's by one and all.
I thought I was doing them a favor, but you never know.
This morning got a note in the mailbox asking for canned goods for a food drive at Lehman Methodist Church.
Found a can of sardines and walked it down to the street to the correct address.
Why, it was my friends, The Kiernans. Their son Ian was collecting.
Good for you, Ian!!!
I have two letters in the mailbox now.
Now I'll write a poem. Ready?
MY BRADFORD WHISTLING TEA KETTLE
Has anyone ever said, I love you!
Well, spattered tea kettle, I am telling you now.
Quelle mess, but your whistle remains true as
the sirens in World War Two, that summoned
the English when the Luftwaffe tried to destroy them.
Wars! We'll always have them, even when we leave
our planet and head for the stars.
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