by Luke Irwin
Owls can’t swim and Pollock don’t fly,
Lest the tragedy for tawny’s lamented plight,
Doomed as he is, forever forlorn in flight;
But then – did you ever eat an owl pan fried?
If ducks can swim then why not chickens?
It’s all just game with their different roles,
An expert tongue it takes to scour words and wings,
But even you taste the difference in a casserole.
Eagles can’t swim, but they’ve met their destiny,
So weep not tears that could fill an ocean,
As flight’s not for the ostrich or Muskogee,
And twisting necks suit not the tides of motion.
Do mice yearn to float like the mighty alligator?
The question’s absurd in its simplicity,
But when I insist on its sincerity
Then I’m just another mental masturbator.