Bruin
I contemplate my bearlike housemate profound in his simple motives; while many creatures seek wisdom glory & riches, he only seeks a pot of honey By day he sits on makeshift furniture (an upturned bucket will do as well as any plushly upholstered recliner) He shakes his cup- its jingle sounds of Christmas bells- and looks needy & charming Well-heeled passersby succumb to the genial jester and a living is made one buck or quarter at a time Later, the carefully collected loot is gathered and carried to the corner store so Bruin may quench his thirst As twilight lands in this forest of towers he beds down in the most finely appointed corner of our habitat At times, shrieks, curses, and wails disturb his languor causing him to growl; most nights, he is docile and serene At morning he joins the migratory scramble to the land where all things are free; he romps & frolics with other beasts, proudly roaring with the lions & tigers before he settles down to a well-earned meal. 18 april 02...about someone I know. A friend, who also knows the "Bruin," calls the poem "accurate, hostile & mean-spirited." Oh, well. I can't be sweet all the time. Written April 18th, 2002 © on Apr 18 2002 08:27 AM PST 10 • 0
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"I contemplate..."