Squirrel People

Squirrel people, weird mutants
crouch on rainy branches
cursing me,
cursing themselves.
"We can scale any obstacle, crack any shell,
but we can't open your fucking front door." 

Me,  I am smug,
reading by the fucking fireside,
my dozy comfort a finger at my arboreal lessers.
"Fuck you!" they say.
They are quick, resentful, sodden.
______

A 55 for Kerry.

Comments

Sherry Blue Sky said…
I love your labels as much as the poem. LOL. Smiling. This is just so funny. Can see you, comfy on the couch, and their chagrin.......
Kerry O'Connor said…
Sorry to get here late in the day.. (had a trip to the dentist, so the F-word rings true)

If we must share the playground with the squirrel people, we should be glad our front doors remain impenetrable. Phew!
Cloudia said…
Anthropomorphize much?


No, being a poet you Shay-pomorphize!

Mine rodents seem kind and diffident....

Incidentally, thanks for:

"A chifforobe (/ˈʃɪfəˌroʊb/), also chiffarobe or chifferobe, is a closet-like piece of furniture that combines a long space for hanging clothes (that is, a wardrobe or armoire) with a chest of drawers. Typically the wardrobe section runs down one side of the piece, while the drawers occupy the other side.
Chifforobe - Wikipedia
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chifforobe"
grapeling said…
I'm dog sitting Quoro, who will gladly rip my arm from socket when he spots said vermin ~

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