Pity Party

No one loves me.
I don’t care.
I’m not wearing underwear.
Well, I am, but not the kind
Of underwear you have in mind.
That and this damn camera phone
Are likely why I’m home alone.

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Tiny Scarlet Hooves And Jaws

A meek, pre-adolescent sheep
Is bleating on the porch. I sleep
Uncomfortably, waking often,
Dreaming of a lion’s coffin.
Just a metaphor? We’ll see.
This March can’t end too soon for me.

Sometimes A Great Nosehorn

Rhinoceroses love my jokes–
I’m in their Top 10 Favorite Blokes!
(The British influence is strong
Amongst* rhinoceri. *Among?)
When conversation turns to me
Their great gray grins are sweet to see.
When angry rhinos stamp and spit
I rarely am the cause of it.
Appreciative though I am
It sometimes puts me in a jam
When each assumes I’ll take his part
In matters of the rhino heart.
They flatter me, but I’m no fool.
Don’t poke your nose in, that’s my rule,
Especially one unadorned
With keratin that’s been enhorned
As odd-toed ungulates’s are.
(I tried it once. I hide the scar.)
I’m not their Cupid, one of them
Benighted rhinoceraphim
Of which the rhino minstrels sing.
I make them laugh, though. That’s my thing.

Going Too

I’m going to work on Phrasal Future Tense.
You’re going to be proud. I’m going to shine.
The animal is going to hop the fence.
The cookie that you’re going to eat is mine.
I’m going to forget this lesson soon.
I’m going to have to learn it all again.
It’s going to the dark side of the moon.
The animal is going to leave the pen.
The cookie on the plate is going stale.
It’s going to be brittle, hard and dry.
The animal’s escape is going to fail.
The animal and I are going to die.
The cookie–mine–is going to taste good.
You’re going to share it with me.
Well, you should.