Gnomes

Henry and Mr. Bones are bored
so they go out at night
stealing gnomes from front yards,

gnomes from old ladies,
gnomes from young suburban housewives,
gnomes from forty year-old women

who still look hot in shorts.
Gnomes from fifty-five year-old widows
with cellulite conquering

the back of their thighs.
Gnomes from old men
who collect gnomes, too.

Henry and Mr. Bones pile
all the stolen gnomes
into Henry’s buckboard,

gnomes that represent what we resent,
gnomes to pay the rent, money not well-spent.
Henry and Mr. Bones just won’t relent.