Prose Poem: Mr. Peabody.

 

"Show Mr. Peabody into the library, please."

That's what the lady said to me.

That's exactly what she said.

A complete stranger.

Never saw her before in my life.

Then she walked away.

At first I was able to put it

out of my mind.

A random remark from

a random stranger.

Not worth a second thought.

But then, about a week later,

I began wondering --

who is Mr. Peabody?

Could be a coded message

meant to warn me,

or threaten me.

Or throw me off the trail.

But I've never been involved in

any kind of spy business

or criminal activity.

I work in lawn care.

"Don't let it get to you, kid"

I told myself.

I thought about telling somebody

about all this -- 

but couldn't think of anyone

who would take an interest in

this odd, admittedly trivial, incident. 

And that thought --

that nobody in the whole

wide world took much 

interest in me --

depressed me badly.

So I went down to the 

Animal Shelter

and got me a dog.

A real mutt he is.

Ugly as sin.

But very affectionate

and intelligent.

I told him all about the strange

lady and what she said to me.

He listened attentively;

he seemed very interested

in the whole affair.

The dog and I worked out a theory:

It was a case of simple 

mistaken identity.

Like in a movie.

I owe that dog a lot.

And that's why I named him

Mr. Peabody.