Something Absurd

Walking past my neighbor’s house just a few days ago, Amanda and I thought of a brilliant plan:  borrow their parrot, teach it all sorts of nonsensical things to say, and return it.

We ultimately decided this was a perfectly foolish idea, and our supporters wouldn’t be pleased at all to hear we were using their generous finances for experimental bird research.

So instead, I wrote this poem.

Never Share Your Parrot

I used to own a parrot –
Who lived inside a cage.
From time to time I’d share it
With friends who were of age.

They kept her out of trouble
And fed her twice a day
(And if they had the gumption
They took her out to play).

The parrot’s name was Wobble –
A sentimental name
Given by my Uncle Ned
In reference to his cane.

And since I can remember
She always liked to talk –
To mimic words and phrases
With her peculiar squawk.

But once, last June, I faltered
And lent her to a nerd –
Who taught her to say “Gorbachev”
And other awkward words.

Hoping I could fix her,
I gave her to a mime –
Thinking little harm would come
From one of little mind.

How wrong I was! And sorely –
How singularly false
To think that Wobble would be safe
With a man whose mind was lost.

He trained her to be silent –
To see invisible things –
To draw four walls and windows, all –
And doorknobs with her wings.

Now she paints her face with white –
Her feathers, they are striped –
Her beak is red, her feet are black –
She even smokes a pipe.

I wish that I could tell you now
That Wobble’s doing well –
I sent her to a leprechaun,
So only time will tell.