poem09 Sep 2019 08:05 pm
Betty Hufford
When the aliens pick their pets,
they won’t choose me.
I am no pup
with Jack Russell energy.
Despite frequent brushing,
I shed prodigiously.
I’ve been known to snap,
talk politics around me.
I dropped out of obedience school,
having laid down long enough.
I do enjoy a walk
but abhor the leash.
Perhaps there’ll be a no-kill shelter
run by some lonely ET
who finds me cute
in an other-worldly way.
I’ll nest in worn blankets until
I bite the hand that feeds me.
One small bite for mankind.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.