At night, Cat plays his fiddle
On the boardwalk in hopes
Tourists toss dollars or change
Into his opened fiddle case.
He promises himself he’ll use
The money to pay his rent;
Internally he knows
He’ll blow it on a catnip fix.
Cow jumps over the moon,
In one bound, much to her trainer’s
Delight. She moos seductively
When she lands, knowing she’ll get milked
Extra hard when she gets home.
Little dog laughs as he walks
Away from the betting booth.
He rips his ticket, lets the shreds
Sprinkle the ground like lasting regret.
He mumbles something about blue
Moons and stupid cows.
Dish and Spoon were left with little choice
If their love was to continue.
Their families did not approve of their union;
They said dishes are only supposed
To be poked by forks, and spoons should
Only dip into bowls–it was the natural
Order of things. Prejudice gave way
To one recourse: abscond together,
Escape into the sea of the full moon.
A. J. Hayes
Give a poet a pen