Baffling

As a would-be baffler, I’m engaged in creating something

fool-proof. But there’s such a wide variety

of fools that I don’t know

how to baffle them all.

Fools come in many stripes and furs,

demonstrate a myriad of facets,

advocate a host of harebrained actions,

override some basic setups,

and dare to wreck whatever’s commonsensical

or designed for someone else’s welfare.

Fools! Fools! Fools!

Ubiquitous, repugnant, maybe treacherous.

What to do? Foolhardiness is all too hardy now.

I disdain the bunch of public fools

I have no power over.

What else can I do but scorn and spurn

those whose conduct’s vile, baffling?

I’m happy to just turn

my back on certain fools I hear of––noisome bloviators

wriggling on stages far from me and easily tuned out,

all blowhards hard

of hearing, loud but largely impotent.

And I’m self-training to be deft at relishing

the particulars of a private life, well-lived so far

in my secluded sphere where not a single fool resides

or even visits. Lucky me!

But there are fools I can’t ignore.

However devious, determined, dogged

these backyard undesirables may be,

I will succeed. I’ll stifle them

through a multi-form system of techniques:

cutting bushes back, greasing pole and attaching to it

my device––a baffle!

Then . . . just let those furry fools attempt to get to seed

well-laced with cayenne pepper, which deters them.

The birds I love to feed are not put off

and I’ll revel in the burning

of at least some foolish tongues,

though they’re only those of squirrels.