love fantasy

yesterday i was sitting on a park bench

sipping lemonade wishing i could have been

born a man

then thinking about the hairy balls

and wishing i could have been

born a man without balls

and then deciding, no, better

to be born a chameleon with twisty eyes

perched on some rainforest vine

watching a toucan preen

or no, better to be born moon-dirt

white dust on a static face

or no, better to be born a clown

with a permanent honk-squeeze nose

or best of all to be born

a ball-less man with twisty eyes and a honk-squeeze nose

and i'd never smile or cry, i'd just

twist my eyes around, seeing everything in all directions

sometimes squeezing my nose for a comic honk 
but never moving from my park bench until i met my true love
who would probably be

ordinary.

Meteor Shower

A hundred nimble yogis

Beaming energies down from a spaceship

Did not behead the president

They weren't trying to.

Those same nimble yogis

A year later, half-starved,

Thinking about consuming each other

Wished they had beheaded the man

Who'd defunded 'Yogis in Space.'

This time, with feebler powers

Aiming downwards they tried to

Behead the president but his head

Came only partway off and surgeons

Were able to re-attach it.

The same chimpanzees that had fondled

Jane Goodall looked up to see where the beams

Were coming from, chimpanzees being particularly

Sensitive to interstellar beams

And when they learned those beams

Were sent for violence they beamed back up

Toward those hundred nimble yogis

Messages of comfort and peace

Ninety-nine nimble yogis

About to consume the weeklest, feeblest yogi

Halted with their forks and knives in the air

As the love of the chimpanzees washed over them

"Don't eat her," whispered the least feeble

The yogis nodded; put away their forks and knives

Helped the near-sacrifice to her feet

And each said: "I'm sorry."

But the near-sacrifice doubted

She could ever trust her fellow yogis again

One message from the chimpanzees had saved her,

But what about when the hunger resurged? Wouldn't she be the victim then?

She didn't know

That the president had re-funded 'Yogis in Space'

That veggie burgers would be arriving tomorrow

She didn't know

So her heart chakra burst open like a rusty pipe

And spilled stars.

A Merry Little Frogmas

'No Christmas this year,' I said to myself

'Screw Christmas. Bah humbug. Good grief.'

I cancelled my parties, tossed out the tree

And fed my dog all the roast beef.

I went out on my own for a walk in the snow

Through the frost-feathered meadows and hills

My mittens had holes and my socks were too thin

And I very soon shivered with chills

I blew into my hands to feel warmth from my breath

And rested a bit on a log

Then blinked 'cause I couldn't believe what I saw:

A tinsel-clad, caroling frog!

His neck was adorned with a string of white lights

A Santa hat topped his green head

Crimson tinsel encircled his slimy webbed feet

He was decked out in all green and red

"Have yourself a merry little frogmas

Let your heart be light

From now on, your troubles will be out of sight"

He warbled the song with a voice like clogged drains

Croaked so loud he was red in the face

You could tell all that belting was giving him pains

His voice leapt between tenor and bass.

And although I was grumpy and feeling remote

The sight of that frog made me smile

Despite the cacophonous croaks of his throat

And his skin tone's resemblance to bile.

In fact, I was even inspired to sing

Along with that off-pitch old frog

"Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow"

Our voices combined like a reindeer-drawn sleigh

In a wreck with a tractor-drawn plough

And once we'd concluded our cocktail of notes

The song finished off with ker-plop

Too shy or embarrassed to give me his name

The frog disappeared in the slop.

As soon as he left, I remembered again

The chill in my fingers and toes

The sky was beginning to powder my head

And frost nipped the tip of my nose

"So long, you old crooner," I said to the frog

When I heard myself speak, I felt silly

I thought to myself, "Was that frog really there?"

But saw tinsel threads left on the lily.

Once back in my house I ate green beans and toast

Since I'd given my dog the roast meat

Then I mended my mittens, so when next I went out

My hands could withstand snow and sleet.

I spent yuletide alone, but un-grumpy I felt

And when coworkers asked how I fared

I said I had "a merry little frogmas."

Some of them smiled. Some just stared.

The Snowman's Bride

The snowman's bride was six feet tall

A corncob pipe she sometimes smoked

She wore a tattered woven shawl

Her chest contained an artichoke

Said vegetable had been there placed

Because of her child-builder's quirk

He thought snow-people needed hearts

And that an artichoke would work

He built, of course, the counterpart

To this tall bride of icy white

A snowman with a hat and scarf

Just shy of his fair bride in height

But oh when this child-builder went

To steal a second artichoke

His mother said, "Oh no you don't! I need that!"

And she slapped the bloke

The boy, crestfallen, knew his groom

Could sport no heart of artichoke

And used an acorn shell instead

Which lay beside the yard's fine oak

And so their love unequal was

With love much stronger in the bride

And weaker in the groom, because

His heart was just an acorn's hide

And so the groom, when sun did shine

Stayed strong and tall and didn't melt

Was kept alive by that strong love

That his enduring bride had felt

But she herself, who was not loved

To same degree, did melt away

And that was worse, for soon

The stolen vegetable was on display

"You stole an artichoke to make

A snowman!" shouted child's mum

"Snow-woman," child-builder said

His mum thought, "He's obscenely dumb."

Meanwhile, the snow-groom melted down

To just hat, scarf and acorn shell

The squirrels stole and ate his heart

Which in the end was just as well.

Knitting Christmas Sweaters for Murderers

If I had clamped my jaw shut I would have been able to swallow the future before it happened

Instead I got lost knitting Christmas sweaters for murderers

Knitting stitches so small it makes my eyes hurt

And this one's red for the blood that fell

And this one has a star.

Not that I know whom they killed to get on Death Row

Only that they have arms and torsos, and I, a lot of free time

To perform Thankless Gifts

Like watering trees in other people's yards

Scraping the gum off sidewalks

It's a better kind of prayer than the kind that asks for things

I carry doggy bags to pick up poop

Which is sometimes soft and wet like intestines

Which you might have pulled out of that girl

Or did you drown her?

I would have been so happy to stay with you

But you left and murdered the next girl

I saw her face in the church directory

She had curly, bobbed hair like a poodle

And you're in the penitentiary the penance century the ten-pence mensch-ary

---are the word games I would have played with you

If you hadn't snuffed her out--don't you know we're all free?

To spit gum on sidewalks or scrape it off or pull someone closer or push them off or take a picture or smash a camera or eat spinach or sugar or breathe air or ashes or dust.

'May she rest in peace' is the kind of prayer that asks for things

But my prayer is a tight jaw while knitting

Was she waterlogged when they found her?

Or disemboweled?

I think I will include a note with my sweaters:

'If you let the inmate wear it on his last day

The wool will absorb his jittery sweat

Making cleanup easy.

But, if it's his last day,

Don't let him wear the one with a snowman.

Its coal grin might seem mocking,

disrespectful,
crude.'

The Sock-Stealing Fingered Paramecium

Most paramecium don't have fingers

Most paramecium don't steal socks

But one single-celled ciliated protozoan

Of unclear ancestry but possibly Samoan

Is a sock-stealing fingered paramecium!

It's a tiny little fellow and it's got six digits

It can sense your feet, especially when you fidgets

And once it finds 'em, it steals your socks

And hides 'em in a cavern made of mud and rocks

It's just single-celled, but it's has a single focus

It's as stealthy as a bat and as quiet as a crocus

It sneaks toward your feet while you sit or while you doze

And wriggles off your socks from your ankles to your toes

You'll look down in a flash and you'll find your feet unshod

You might be angry or you might be awed

Your brand-new socks of soft, soft fleece-ium

Have just been pinched by a paramecium!

"Where are your brand-new socks?" asks your mother

"The fleece ones I bought for you and your brother."

And you'll have to admit, with a sense of unease-ium

They were robbed by a sock-stealing fingered paramecium!

Mom might not believe you, she might think you're being brash

So you have to find the protozoan's secret stash

You have to find where the culprit dwells

And reveal to your mother the single cell

With the many fingers who stole your socks

And hid them in a cavern of mud and rocks

And once you've convinced her, she will ring the police-ium

To report the crime by the naughty paramecium

The police will come, catch the thief, and post bail

And the single cell will dwell in a single cell in jail.

I'm Kissing My Rhinoceros To Sleep

I'm kissing my rhinoceros to sleep

'Cause the only way he'll ever shut his eyes

Is if he's kissed upon his neck and chest and thighs

In fact, he gets exceptionally stressed

Without smooches on his thighs and neck and chest

And when he's stressed he rams the wall with his big horn

Which wakes up the neighbor's finicky newborn

Then the baby cries and that upsets him more

So he pounds his hooves on our apartment floor

Which is the ceiling for our downstairs neighbor, Pops

And when Pops gets mad he tends to call the cops

And the sirens make my rhino so alarmed

That it's dangerous for cops to come unarmed

So I have to tell the cops to bring their guns

But the sight of those will give my pet the runs

So there's rhino diarrhea on the floor

And the neighbor's baby's screaming even more

And my pet slips on the mess he made before

And he crashes through the bathroom's glass-paned door
Then he's stressed because he's cut with broken glass

So he vomits yet another heap of grass

And the vet comes with a tranquilizer dart

And she's trying hard to aim it at his heart

But she also slips in vomit and falls down

And my nervous rhino chews upon her gown

Then a gun gets fired and I let out a shout

And my rhino gets so stressed he passes out

And the bill for all that cleanup isn't cheap

So I'm kissing my rhinoceros to sleep.