The Foul Smell Left To Leave Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

So many today seem unable to stay,
Away...
From someone else,
Minding their own business.

Like flies attracted to a horse's tail.
Or people who hop in their cars,
To drive to the nearest farm.
Not only to see the cows.
But to stop and want to know,
How they smell.
To get a closer whiff of it.

Perhaps it is,
What people who choose...
To mind their own business do.
And without mentioning it.

Perhaps,
People who mind their own business...
Seem to be unintentionally,
Begging for an attention they don't get.
Like ignoring someone,
Who continously knocks on a close door.

'Is anyone inside?
Either say 'yes' or 'no'.'

One knock on a closed and locked door,
Should be enough. That's acceptable.
Two knocks? Okay! But not three or four.

And those who have no business,
To call their own to do...
Are willing to get as close enough,
As possible.
Even to peek through windows.

'Is that you.
Sitting there like a statue? '

This...
Is harrassment!
A '911' thing that has gone much too far.
And without romance being involved?
Comeon.
But then, again...
I have been accused of being handsome.
By this woman who was clearly in her 80's.
Even though she told me she was 53.
God? I know You're busy.
But can you swat that fly?
This is my last petty request. I promise.

And folks like this just don't care,
How this stinks.
Or the foul smell left to leave in the air,
By their thoughtless actions.