Watched by a chipmunk at the end of the stone wall, I hold a mouthful of coffee in my cheeks, do my best to look as if I know how to live.---Dave Bonta, The Morning Porch, 04-26-12
What does he know about being alive
that the chipmunk would not know?
Would laughing at his misadventure
be one of his given talents? When he
mimics the nutcracker with puffed-up
cheeks worked out by a mouthful
of caffeinated brew, might the rodent
hysterically guffaw (in its own style),
when he chokes on the mis-swallowed
coffee, coughs his lungs out, spins
out-of-body in a near-death episode?
Betting odds: Who gets to laugh last?
–Albert B. Casuga
Here’s Poem #27 in my poem-a-day project to mark National Poetry Month.