If I were a vegetable,
I’d be a potato

If I were a plant,
I’d be bushed

If I were an animal,
I’d be dog tired


Space Ships

We always imaging them,
so cold, metallic, and unfriendly,

Would it really be that bad,
to make one with a little room,

That has room for a fuzzy blanket?

Conversation with Dog

You are a dog
and I am not
I could have been a dog
or you could have been a human
How different would we be?
You would still be cute,
I’m sure
But would we have met?
Would you, as a human,
choose me, as a dog?


If you were a small mushroom,
and a toad were to pass by,

Wouldn’t it be super annoying,
for them to assume you’re all chairs,

When some of you clearly are,
more like couches, armchairs, and the odd day bed?

The Visit

The first time I visited Joe,
I pulled into the driveway
and spotted him in the garage,

so of course I approached
even though his back was turned.
I wasn’t expecting the guzzling
sound — when he stepped aside
the fizz from that beaker
stunned me — overflowing
might be an understatement.
I gasped and Joe faced me in a suit
rivaling an astronaut chef
and I was already done
but he wasn’t. He lifted his visor,
grinned like a monkey, and waved
in the direction of his project.
I backed away. “I don’t want to know.”

“The scanner says…”

“JOE! I don’t want to know.”
First and only visit, might I add.