In Love and Bad Air, a purely imaginative/fictional poem not based on any actual/factual incident

The good Father concluded
his meditation with “There
are no bad goats to expel,”

but, the man wondered, what
about the terrible goaty smell?

His wife overhearing his
rumination, stated, “That
goes for you, you old goat,
as well.”

“Perhaps, a shower is in order,”
she said with a smile,
“so I won’t have to beat you
and send you into exile.”

“But, dear,” he retorted,
“It has been my vocation
to spend time in reflection
and deep rumination.”

“While you are spending time
in your so-called ‘deep thinking,’
the dog and I agree something
is stinking.

“It’s not the dog who’s guilty,
for I give him baths dutifully.

Even he is covering his nose,
so take a shower before I get
the hose.”

“All right,” he muttered getting
up from prayer
while trying to avoid
the dog and wife’s stare.

“Sister Claire apparently didn’t mind
about Brother Francis’ noxious air,”
he muttered on the way to the shower.

“That’s because they didn’t have
any soap between the pair,”
stated his wife, who would not cower.

“Oh, all right, I guess all is fair,
in love and bad air,”
as he stepped into the shower.

“Dear, there’s no soap in the shower.
As much as I believe in prayer,
and while I think just water and prayer
have eternal cleansing power,
I don’t think you mean that kind of shower,

so if you don’t mind,
please pass the bar of Dove
and I will let it descend on my…
be…well, never mind.”

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