An Ode to Parasitism
If I’m ever reborn
I’ll submit to my maker a plea:
I’d like my next life to be that of a household flea
Oh, I know what you think, so spare me judgments and sermons
I have heard it before and will surely hear again
So unless you enjoy tiny bites on your oversized loins
Bare with me and listen — and soon you might covet the same
How often you hear that life is a search of fulfillment
And of service to mankind or whatever they call us these days
It is certainly not, if you ask Siphonaptra Insecta
Or Pulex Irritantis, its cousin that’s sucking your face
Parasitic existence — a bliss that is shameless and pure
No pretense of virtue, of valor, of selfless pursuit
Just the heat of the hunt and of mating unending allure
And a little bit care to avoid being crushed by a boot
You’re still not convinced? Go ahead — choose commitment and service
And devoted love that only a dog can confer
But do not be surprised if, while fetching your master a bone,
You detect a slight tingle under your glistening fur.
