I want to be the well-fed resting lion
Lazily lying in slumber on the savannah
While cubs chew my paws and I feel them
But ignore them and the flies, in dream.
But even the lion roars NO! and nips to screech
To prove his point. So maybe I am the lion, after all.
And he is me, at least what I am trying to be.

Or maybe I want to be the warthog's smile
While a pack of mongoose scours my skin
And I am left in a trance, eyes with lashes
So long you’d swear the beast was a horse
Fully pleased and asleep in pleasure deep.
Rest assured he is a pig, living a well-fed pig’s life.

Or, again maybe the hippo, being sucked clean by my companion
Fish, my troop of symbiosis and cause and effect to Oxytocin comatose--
As I asleep underwater at the river’s edge
Head resting on a rock, smile and a snort and my
Once flickering ears push up only inches to the air, out of habit--
Where I am king and content in that security. Safety
Provides the deepest sleep there on the river bottom deep.

But I can settle for being a human being, able
To imagine here to there and in between. A lion.
A beast. A dinosaur. Or more. Forevermore.
Living life as a fly, a mongoose, a sucker
Fish. Serving to be served. It is utterly human
To have to figure out what the animals already know:
Things work best when everybody’s getting what they want
Just so long as you go with the flow, itches will be scratched.

03/24/2017

Posted on 03/24/2017
Copyright © 2024 Rob Littler