In the parking lot, waiting
on the concrete flat, shining
eyes open wide frightened tiger.
And you are the key;
you have the automobile,
and you can stand
while the earth is closed
in the sleeping eye of the sun,
or before this hour is ended.
So, how do you like
the slave trade, Captain Jones?P>
Tasul the tiger lies sick,
wearily on a green carpet square;
wishing he was hunting, or pursued,
through the forests of southern Asia.
Big Boy the elephant pads about
sad, with no lumber to haul.
The orang-outang in his favorite t-shirt
bored, gnaws the bark off sticks.
I had a dream- I can't remember which;
did cheerful crocodiles attack the house,
or angry Pandas storm the temple
at Benares, and eat the Monkey God?
Andrew MacArthur is a poet who makes his home in Portland, Oregon, where he also hosts the Meander Open-Mic poetry reading.