Minnie Mouse on Crack

Her voice

shrieked through

their assaulted ear drums

like splintered glass.

She approached

their fear

with her blinding smile;

a wattage in

a class of its own,

matched only by the

impossible frequency

of the decibels

she intoned.

A decorated Navy man

back in the second act

On the stage of the worlds wars

had been spared by his

ancient world without

technology,

for in those

most primitive times,

when no safety rules applied,

he had sacrificed his eardrums

amidst the earsplitting roar of

engines from the bombers he used to fly,

but his near deafness became

his ally,

his secret weapon of defense,

a father of the most

agreeable kind,

smiling through her

soprano whine

and nodding along

to the tales of woe

she wove;

for he lived in ignorant bliss

of the horrific voice

his daughter possessed.

Her coworkers cower in horror

as her racous laughter

Peels the paint

as she rounds the corner,

and when she confides

to her lover

that she'd always dreamed

Of singing the blues

In that smoky jazz bar

On the corner,

he pleaded with intensity,

as he uttered,

Oh my darling,

Isn't there something you'd

love to do better?

If she ever gets lost

You can find her

Just listen for the yips

Of wailing dogs,

And follow the voice

that is the envy of

ambulance sirens.