the bar on the corner

A chorus of drunken frogs
croak ‘oh danny boy’ outside my window
while a raccoon of unusual size
(Wesley doesn't believe they exist)
Entirely gracelessly defies several laws
Of gravity and physics
To upend the birdfeeder onto the lawn,
Hunting and pecking delicately in the dark
for the good stuff.
With quiet knocking the possum,
Late from work,
Undoes his tie and and slinks
Into the grill, helping himself
To the crisp fat left there, wiping his fingers on his sleeve.
The hum of the crickets’ conversation
Fills the bar
As they try to hear themselves over the lurching song
Of the inebriated amphibians –
“keep it down over there!”
But they’ve already had too much
And their song is a jubilant ode
To friendship & drinking & excess
Last call – take it outside!
But no one is listening –
Someone might have to call the police.