Porch: Unfinished Poem by bob barci

Not quite spring yet,
I sit on the porch
with a pot of coffee
and a slight chill in the air.
I keep saying I should
be out here more often,
but something always prevents me.
It’s a pretty quiet day.
Now and then a string of cars drive by.
A new neighbor walks by
and her little, pug faced, dog
manages to break free to come running up on the porch.
He says hello by
dancing about my feet
and jumping up on my leg.
When I sit on the ground,
he jumps into my lap and licks my face.
As I play,
my VCR records my soap opera
for me to watch later.
The Spanish guys, who live downstairs,
and ‘bum’ cable TV off my roommate,
try to convince him to get them the Playboy channel.
I hear, but don’t see,
chirping birds in the trees across the street.
I’m thinking
that maybe I’ll go play Bingo tonight.
I haven’t done that in quite some time.