Prose Poem: Democracy dies in darkness. It turns out, foxes steal newspapers in darkness, too. (John Kelly for the WaPo.)

 

TIm Torkildson, otherwise known as 'Foxy Grandpa.'

"Every few years, I hear about foxes that are stealing newspapers. In 2009, it was happening in Alexandria’s Yacht Haven subdivision, where a fox (or foxes) unknown was plucking The Washington Post, the Washington Times, the Examiner and the Mount Vernon Gazette from in front of people’s houses."

I found a fox sitting on my front porch

reading my newspaper

this morning.

"Would you like some coffee?"

I asked it facetiously.

"Earl Grey tea, if you don't mind"

replied the fox.

Another fox strolled out

from the bushes and joined

the first one.

"Could I have the sports

section, please?" it asked

the first fox.

This was getting too much for me,

so I went back inside to make

vichyssoise to serve chilled at dinner --

that always calms me down.

When I came back out on the porch

the foxes were gone,

and so was my newspaper.

My dog Rufus came up to me;

it smelled like it had been rooting

around inside a dead skunk.

"Well" I said to it, "can you talk

now too? Where did those foxes

go with my newspaper?"

Rufus just barked at me, 

then went over to the corner

of the porch with direct sunlight

and lit up a meerschaum pipe.

So I decided that if animals can

act like humans,

humans can act like animals.

If you want me

I'll be hanging upside down

with my hands and feet

from a branch of the sycamore tree,

like a three-toed sloth.

I've left instructions for the 

newspaper to be delivered on

top of my stomach each morning.