We have no idea if the squirrels are happy. Or / if anyone is.

Human supremacy is
assuming the squirrels are happy.

We have no idea

if the squirrels are

having a good time,

or

if anyone is.

Sometimes I struggle

to find an outfit

that matches  the day.

So far

my best option

smells like the thrift store.

Now that I’m going off Prozac,

I think someone else

might have to

take out
the recycling.

Hormone curation,

myoclonic jerks.

These seem fewer,

but I feel more inclined

to be grumpy.

When I get old,

I hope there is time

to watch the squirrels

carry bagels

across telephone wires.

 

Telephone wires,

and clotheslines,

though by then all the telephone wires

will be buried underground.  

Who knows what will happen to the clotheslines.

 

Time for the squirrels,

and a window.

And jigsaw puzzles.

 

I will not die of loneliness,

but this may seem surprising.

We have no idea

if the squirrels are happy.

Or

if anyone is.

The End.

This outfit matches the day
better than the others.
It does not smell
like the thrift store.


Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go

Bodhisattva Business Ventures:

Deep Cleans by Erica J. Schmidt (@deepcleanswitherica)
Montreal Hippie Threads (@mtlhippiethreads)
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First no boundaries on the Internet. Then Psychotic Break.
This was my calling on the corner of Rue Boucher and Rue Drolet just around yesterday's sunset on Friday, March 17
Rumplestiltskin


Five Days of Creative Recovery