It's interesting here in

  The median strip, listening to

  The rush and drool of mechanical

  Rabbitry, wobble-footed and panting,

  In its frantic attempt to catch the

  Greyhounds riant, who seem detemined

  To leave bright yellow pawprints

  Right down the catpool lane.
 
 

  Oh, well. No speed limits for orchids.

  It's worth being considered parasitic

  If someone else is stuck with 

  Pumping the nectar. Anyhow, my

  Tastes run more to polar bears,

  Ambidextrous mullet juggling,

  And thirty-year sunsets.

  Bring the larks when you come.
 
 

- David W. Mitchell
 

to David   /  to Moongate