Wednesday, September 09, 2009

not the hanging judge

the frog tunes stopped
got real quiet hereabouts
don’t want to rush
to irrational judgment

but it looks like Herb stayed
and the nervous girlfriend
the one with the big eyes
might have split in the cover of darkness

this morning Herb is there
sitting on the same bar stool lily pad
like someone told him to freeze
he didn’t move a muscle (can't say hair,doesn’t have any)

we’ll move slow around, easy like
take our time, not make a sound
and count ‘em up later
to see who’s still in pond town

1 comment:

holly said...

Fun! I love this poem. I enjoy the playfulness of the personification.