April 20, 2011 in Poetry
When the bottom half of your pants are drenched in the rain and your umbrella
keeps turning inside out,
think of Koko, that gorilla, and how she used to deny drinking
up all the juice while her trainer was out of the room, how she’d blame it on her kitten.
Endless fun when a gorilla lies, because we hadn’t known she could. Read the rest of this entry →