Prose Poem: Babbling Bat Pups.

 

The author, with bats in his belfry.

The babbling bat pups really got to me;

I mean, all night long they babble out on

the eaves next to my bedroom window.

So I finally contacted the Biden administration.

*

I emailed the undersecretary of defenestration.

He referred me to the Department of Windows.

Who, in turn, asked for my social security number

then asked me to open a bank account in Nigeria.

*

And still the bat pups babbled.

It sounded similar to Pushtu. 

I moved my bed into the garage;

but the babbling bat pups were there

ahead of me.

*

They dropped things on me:

Monkey wrenches.

Moldy yarn.

Cans of Bardahl motor oil.

*

Finally the Department of Windows

got back to me.

They had deposited fifty-thousand

dollars in my Nigerian bank account

and said I should hire an 

exterminator.

*

But there are no bat exterminators

in Nigeria. 

*

I began babbling back 

at the bat pups.

They liked that

and stopped dropping

monkey wrenches.

*

Now they study my eating habits

and I study their speech patterns

and together we have started an

LLC to monetize the lice

in their fur.

*

This is what makes America

so great in the trenches.