Mary Toodle-Pip Poem by Mary Naylor

Mary slammed her old phone down with a bang.
Her neatly-pressed gingham dress swirled and shook
As she whirled around, 'DANG! '
'The Mobile Home Ombudsman is not in, ' 'The schnook! '

'Always the same. They think they can ignore me? '
She laced her boots and jammed on her red hat.
Her thin, angular body quivered. 'We'll see.
I'm going to the state capitol. DRAT! '

The train rattled and whistled all the while.
It puffed and snorted, and so did Mary,
Angrily clutching her mobile home file.
'My tax pays his salary. Glory be! '

When she arrived, she plopped down in a taxi.
'I'm sorry lady, I'm waiting for my fare.'
' You just got a fare to the capitol! '
He started up when he saw her glare.

There, a beautiful well-groomed receptionist
said, 'I'm sorry, he is not in today, '
while daintily drooping her well-shaped wrist.
'Or any day, ' Mary snapped, 'if I may say.'

'It's lunchtime, ' the lady said, and she left.
No one was around. Mary opened his door.
In the dark, he was sleeping at his desk.
She touched him. 'Now see here! ' He fell to the floor.

'He's dead, ' she thought. 'And nobody missed him!
No wonder he never answered my calls.'
She heard the recording, '...is not in...'
Mary didn't know if she should laugh or bawl!

She dug out a votive candle she once bought.
She lit it, and placed it by his head.
From her hat, she plucked a flower. It caught
The candle's flicker. He seemed asleep in bed.

She taped a large poster board to his door:
Elegy to a Mobile Home Ombudsman
Sleep in peace, my dear man.
We'll all get on a best we can.

PS To the staff, if you please,
SOME ONE send my mobile
home registration to me!