Tuesday, March 8, 2011


Gimmicky look I gave the son
Of the mole faced heir in possession,
I walked to him with my gentle limp
And asked him quietly, from my lips
I said to him, what in the world are your plans

He fidgeted and clearly I could tell
He hadn’t thought the answer over much at all
Sweat beaded upon his brow
His tongue fled to the roof of mouth
He did not speak, not a whisper
But the glossy stare said it all

There they were
All in line
Extending hands
Looking for their escape
He looked to me and asked for help
I was shocked at his request
As I’ve never been in such a shoe
But I did what I could do
And blocked his way through the crowded zoo
Pushing, scraping, screaming, yelling
I got him to his car.   He thanked me for my assistance, shook my hand and drove away.

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