Asked a bearded seal to drive a skimobile
C’est difficile. A poem using all the words from here that rhyme with ‘Glockenspiel’.
*Asked a bearded seal to drive a skimobile* “C’est difficile.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m capable; don’t judge me by my dishabille, for
I can do a thousand things you couldn’t ask a harbour seal, like
foraging for goldenseal; restoring vintage reel-to-reels; as
well as treading water with more power than a paddle wheel.
I’m better than a cockatiel at disengaging orange peel; my
talents at the potter’s wheel won me a prize in Ardabil; I’m
often asked by country bands to join them on the pedal steel — all
while I fish traditionally with better yield than spinning reels.
Calligraphy’s a cinch to me: I’m neater than a daisy wheel; and
I can give your carbon steel a certain lustrous sex appeal so
as to decorate with zeal your cochineal pimpmobile: one
flipper on my chamomile, the other works a buffing wheel.
And if the mechanism sticks, I’ll clean and oil the idler wheel — for
many humans such a task is surely an ordeal — but my
engineering talent’s finely balanced like a planet wheel; the
flippers of a pinniped are handier than you might feel.
My lab work’s got me jobs at Estée Lauder and ExxonMobil, my
flippers gripping pipettes to dispense a drop of acetyl.
I can use a microscope for analysing blastocoel; or
quickly checking antibodies in a moving bloodmobile.
I outperform yarn factories with just a vintage spinning wheel, then
weave it into fabric which I mark out with my tracing wheel.
Essentially, and let’s be real: I’m dexterous but still a seal; I’m
fine to grip the steering wheel but it’s more tricky underheel.”
Now, I’m not sure how I feel; I’ve got to get to Guayaquil
before they end the megadeal on stainless steel glockenspiels. I’d
drive the thing myself but for a reason that I can’t reveal.
Maybe I should be a bit more mercantile and cut a deal.
“Please — ” I started my appeal, “I’d sooner ask a leopard seal; I’ve
heard they have a package deal wherein they’ll drive your snowmobile, but
with your little snout above the keel we’ll have some curb appeal!” I
paused to kneel as if my spiel addressed the holy Bogomil,
“I’ll pay for all your meals: you’ll dine on veal, tuiles and jellied eels; I’ll
service all your knifeware to perfection with a honing steel; I’ll
even bake a panettone full of candied citrus peel” (I’m
not above some gastronomic snob appeal to seal the deal)
I’ll source a troupe of campanologists to woo you with their peal; I’ll
clear by hand the path ahead of you from toxic manchineel; I’ll
cartwheel to the bookmobile and buy you all the Danielle Steel; put
on a show of fireworks with sparklers and a Catherine wheel…
Hunt down your greatest enemy and smoke out their Achilles’ heel;
transport you in an airmobile from downtown Lille to the Antilles; I’ll
undertake research for you on shanty towns and bidonvilles, or
any topics that you feel would benefit the commonweal.
I’ll build a house for your famille complete with working waterwheel, and
rugged campanile in the garden made of hardened steel; I’ll
sign my soul to you in blood and mark it with my private seal;
invigorate your wardrobe with the latest Pantone colour wheel;”
They shrugged and gave a little squeal, “OK then, pal, but here’s the deal: I’ll
try my best but you’ve to do the pedals while I take the wheel.
You can put the music on but I can veto any reel; and
finally, no poetry; it’s twee and overly surreal.”
Thanks for the inspiration, Serenity Carr.