Balancing Act, Ergo the Ego
Consider the skunk
Consider the skunk.
Pussycat with a unique defense.
Lacking ripping claws and slashing teeth,
it’s only armor is the smell of burning tires.
My house smells of burning tires.
Slider, the westie, cornered a woodpussie
and her children in a drainage hole
30 feet from my house.
I bundled Slider into my house.
What else could I do?
The house smells of burning tires.
I washed Slider in white vinegar followed by puppy shampoo.
I borrowed my neighbor’s Fabreze.
I washed my clothes.
I washed myself.
None of the above is what I’m trying to get at.
Consider the title…
Balancing Act, Ergo the Ego
I’m walking a tightrope.
My balance precarious.
I ‘d held much greater hope,
much greater ambition, for this piece…
…now but a tame vagrant scribble,
for that is exactly what it is.
I truly meant to convey to you
a universal truth. Forgive me.
