The rat of me

When I come back,
Newly reborn,
Soul sparkling in the light,
A life not freshly sinned,
I want to be a rat.
Sleek muscle under sleeker fur,
Eyes bright and sinuous tail,
A rat would be the life for me,
A rat not man for me.
I would be wise,
And chose to live,
In subways riding railway cars,
Where food is plentiful and free,
And better than most humans see.
They waste so much,
It’s clear to me,
They must love rats,
Or else they would eat less,
Or choose to give what’s left,
To their own poor.
Yes rat would be the life for me.
And I would run across the foot,
Of nice rich ladies,
Who’d scream my name,
Just to remind them of the fact,
That it’s souls not clothes,
That make the man.
For me I’d chose,
Grand Terminal’s caves,
Replete with oysters and fine cheese,
And sit atop an opal face munching,
And watching lives go to waste.
Lives lost in hurry,
Lost to haste,
Preforming tasks,
That humans hate.
Working to be grateful,
For a job,
Nor knowing that all such rush is waste.
So I will come back as a rat,
To smooth my fur,
In star coated calls.
For life is sweet,
When you’re a rat.

kells-catmouse1

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s