Ed Benedict didn’t mind how often his house got egged. It was to be expected, he thought. Plus, over the years he’d gotten pretty good at cleaning yolk off brick. But sliced ham and smoked salmon being posted through his letterbox, toasted English muffins getting smashed through his windows and hollandaise sauce being punched into his kids’ faces were a lot harder to get over.
© Carl Burkitt 2019
This poem is part of a challenge for National Poetry Writing Month 2019 – a poem a day celebrating an interesting US national day.