Ba-deep, ba-deep: that's all, Folks!

I'll even keep it light-
hearted while proving my point:
think back to the pets you've had
while growing up; you can't even muster
one crocodile tear for the ones that died
that you never got around to naming.

I heard that long ago there was a tribe
who made it illegal, punishable by death
to name anything that took breaths
since all Life was beautiful
and all Beauty is fleeting.
I forget what our forefathers called them
besides the Enemy
and what our historians call them
besides grant-money fodder
but I'm almost certain
they put up a toast-worthy fight before
succumbing to the inevitability of fate.

If you want to see their bones
or dioramas of their villages
museum admission's cheap
and if you want to see the ones still breathing...

...Well, I can't give away all my secrets
at once, can I?






Currently reading:
The writing on the wall.