Sphincter

When sphincter muscles come to mind
There’s one that leaves the rest behind
And that’s the one upon your bottom
(Also mine). Most folks have got ’em
Hidden when they’re fully dressed
And yet somehow we’re still obsessed
With something that’s so far from rare
That even toddlers know it’s there,
Its purpose, and its main export.
In case you’re rushed for your report,
The diagram John Venn would craft
Of Those Who Know One Sphincter’s Aft
And Those Who’d Struggle Next to Name
Another One would look the same
As one itself: Both by a quirk’ll
Look exactly like a circle.
Why that is, I should explain, is
Everybody’s favorite’s anus.

Assuming Standard Gravity

Slugs have feet
But slug has foot,
Around which sometimes
Fringe is put.
They’re mostly mantle,
Tail, and slime,
Plus tentacles,
And what’s sublime
Is, when you slice
A slug you’ve found,
1/32^nd weighs a pound!
For which fact we’ve
Bored Brits to thank.
The things we learn
When weather’s dank!

Bioengineering

As one who’d likely lose his skull
Were it not fastened on with bone
And sinew, skin, the odd blood vessel…
Can I grow a mobile phone?

When Cats Were Girls

When cats were girls and dogs were boys
And nothing mattered more than toys
The question of what I would be
When I grew up was put to me.
My friends all hollered, Movie star!
A wizard! Batman!…all bizarre,
Outlandish (in my humble view)
Objectives. Michael? How ’bout you?”
I really don’t remember why,
At four or five years old, but I
Knew better than to reach for fame
And riches, and I dropped my aim.
Magic wasn’t real, I knew
(Despite how much I wanted to
Believe it was), so, wizard? No.
I wouldn’t mind magician, though.
That’s just a guy we all pretend
Knows magic, although in the end
He’s no more wizard than, well, me.
So, that’s a thing that I could be…
A movie star? You have to dance
And sing (or so I thought). No chance.
The Batman? Sure, that sounded cool,
But fighting’s not allowed in school
So where would I learn how to BIFF!
And POW!, from comic books? As if.
No, practical, pragmatic Mike
(A weirdly realistic tyke
In retrospect), stuck out his chin
And answered, Veterinarian!
Was Doctor Dolittle to blame?
Perhaps. But that it never came
To pass is likely for the best,
‘Cause vets might have to pass a test
Or two before they tackle squirrels
And such; I thought all cats were girls
And every dog that sniffed a tail
Or chased a (female) cat was male!
Turns out, that isn’t strictly true–
I used to make things up. (Still do.)
So, no, I’m not a vet. Magician?
Not just yet…but I keep wishin’!