Requisite inspection November 24th, 2020 at Apartment B44

Countdown triggers nails

bitten down to quick

geesh if only Mary Poppins

could pull off cheap trick

or think super tramping Glinda courtesy

film Wizard of Oz

Good Witch of the North

riding at light speed in nick

of time travelling on her

state of the art broomstick

unfortunately they long since retired courtesy

formerly the Banks residence rather slick

at 17 Cherry Tree Lane, London England

ruler of the Quadling Country

South of the Emerald City,

and protector of Princess Ozma

holed up in their respective bailiwick.

Aforementioned and following

(little known) verses (of Matthew)

find me peevish

at our (the missus and mine) digs

2 Highland Manor Drive

between 9:00 A.M. and 12:00 P.M.,

cuz low income housing regulations

require safe and secure place to live,

hence unpleasant inspection

scheduled at least once per year.

A trio of persons

comprising Property Manager

Regional Property Manager

and Maintenance Man

rap on the door (cue suspenseful music)

before their collective gaze turns toward:

the kitchenette, stealing

a peek into refrigerator, stove,

cupboards, testing garbage disposal

assessing utility room

housing hot water heater

testing smoke detector in bedroom

scanning bathroom

all the while reserving right

to take pictures

inside our unit if necessary.

No matter the missus and me

experienced aforementioned inspection

at least three other instances

since we lived here circa July 1st, 2016

(plus or minus a decade - ha)

which state inspection

explains metered emission

synonymous with violation,

whereby absolute zero

personal property we utilize

not considered off limits

to inquisitive troupe constituting

above identified higher ups

(refer to lines 33, 34, and 35

yes - start counting
from tippy top of poem).

Now no more time for inane verse,

cuz tis down to brass tacks

yours truly cannot relax

until he and the wife

align figurative ducks

courtesy ventriloquism acts

issues convincing quacks,

plus suddenly magically enlivened

neatly arrayed knickknacks

threatened with receiving

bonafide paddy whacks

if said tchotchkes misbehave

and exhibit buffoonish antics

subsequently summoned,

instructed, and commanded

to complete x squared jumping jacks

otherwise sent to fabled boot camp

superfluous unwanted playthings

recruited by Salvation Army

filling out ranks of toy story barracks.