When I was little
They said a certain man
Had a monkey on his back;
I thought they meant a real monkey.
I didn’t know
How that monkey got on his back;
I wondered if it scratched and bit
And reached to grab his food.
I wondered if it squawked and chattered,
And why no one plucked it off his back.
I was so relieved to learn
The monkey wasn’t real.

I knew that man;
He never got to be as old as I am now.
I think he must have wished
To trade for a real monkey.
It might have bit and scratched,
But it wouldn’t have killed him.




Next tag - funeral flowers