- Ward Cleaver Speaks to June
June, I am not the one who named our child “The Beaver.” I am the one who wanted to call him Sputnik.
I am not the one who wanted a white picket fence. I am the one who wanted a Doberman pinscher.
I am not the guy who goes off to a mysterious place called work. I am the guy who heads for Petticoat Junction.
I’m not the kindly patriarch in this vague fictitious suburb. I’m the man who drives off in a Fury.
I’m not an avatar of domestic serenity. I am the future of Tango.
Robert E. Wood’s poetry has recently appeared in Poetry Midwest, Quiddity, Quercus Review, Ouroboros, and Umbrella and is forthcoming in War, Literature, and the Arts; Jabberwock Review; and Blue Unicorn. A chapbook, Gorizia Notebook, has been published by Finishing Line Press.
“As a Baby Boomer who went to school in the Atomic Fifties, I am happy to be working at my desk instead of under it.”