qarrtsiluni

by Frederick Garber

One time when I was going along I picked up the newspaper. It was on the table in the coffee shop.

I looked at the headlines. Something about a someone selling a war. I did not read the article. There was a foto of a happy cheerleader on the front page. Well, I was in a hurry. And I just scanned the pages. Looking for who lied. Looking for who died. Looking for who cried. Nobody that I knew.

Right there on page 7. The bottom of page 7. The lower right hand corner of page 7. Section B, I believe it was. Was a small article of great importance. A Mrs. Jones had called animal control. She had heard a noise in her backyard. An annoying disturbance, it was. So she had looked out the kitchen window. And she saw a coyote running around the backyard. He was trying to get out. He was digging.

Dirt was flying. The neighbor’s dogs were howling. Her backyard was fully fenced. Fully fenced with chain link. The kind that keeps critters in and out. So she was surprised to see a wild beast in her backyard. So she called animal control. Mrs. Jones has a small house in the Russian bottoms.

She lives near Saint Casimir’s Catholic Church. She lives just off of Gordon Drive. She is retired. She is a widow. Mr. Jones use to work as a meat cutter for Swift. She raised a big family. And now she lived alone. And now a coyote had invaded her yard. And now she has called animal control. Well the article on page 7 goes on to tell us what happened. Bob Larson from animal control had taken the call. He was there in ten minutes. He had come in the small white pickup. He was ready. He had a gun. He had a rope. He had a bag full of stuff. He walked to Mrs. Jones’s backyard. The coyote was gone. There was no hole under the fence. There was no way for the coyote to escape. Mrs. Jones was sure that she had seen him. The neighbor dogs were watching carefully. Bob Larson had to file his report. Report of coyote in backyard. No coyote in backyard. Page 8 had a notice to be on the lookout for a peddler.

A door to door peddler with a beard. A peddler with a strong smell. A peddler trying to sell empty bottles. Last seen near Gordon Drive. Do not open the door for him. Call the police right away. So I finished my espresso. And then I drove to work.

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Frederick Garber writes, “I am somewhat retired. My wife and I live in Mexicali, Baja del Norte, Mexico. Border city of a million or so people, twice as many pigeons, a fair amount of wild skinny dogs and over 300 Chinese restaurants. I won 4th place in a poetry contest maybe 15 years ago. Lucky for me only 4 people entered and my friend was the judge. Got a free pizza as a prize. I have also been published a few times in qarrtsiluni. Had a poem about dead pinatas published on Poets Against the War. Back in the 60s I knew someone who was studying at the Writer’s Workshop at the University of Iowa. I cannot recall his name. But he had some great parties.”