My new favorite poem

...is the following one, purportedly by Billy Collins:

Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun In The House

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking,

and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.

When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton

while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.

(end of poem)

I say purportedly because I could not find that title in a list of the complete poems of Billy Collins at Poetry Foundation. To be fair, however, I do not know when the list was compiled and Billy Collins, who is still alive and kcking, may well have written the poem since the list was put together, in which case the list needs to be updated.

I laughed when I read the poem and thought about the two big dogs, Rebel and Jasper, who live behind my next-door neighbor's fence. They go ballistic every time I take Abby out our back door. They sound ferocious, like they want to eat her if they could just get to her, and maybe me as well. Abby seems to enjoy setting them off but I do grow weary of the scenario.

I said to Mrs. RWP (the lovely Ellie), "Want to hear something crazy?" and read the poem aloud to her. She agreed that it was crazy, and I said, "I know! It's good but it's crazy! I think I'm crazy sometimes but I finally found someone crazier than me!"

Billy Collins and I are practically twins as we were both born in March 1941. Both of us turn 83 next week, me (I?) on Monday and him (he?) on Friday. Both of us write poems, some of them crazy. There is one minor difference between us, though. Billy Collins served as Poet Laureate of the United States from 2001 to 2003; I have yet to be asked.