Tuesday, May 1, 2018

Villanelle: We're All Lovable

We think we’re so unique, when we’ve had our fill.
We may be poor, but we’ve owned our dearest wish.
We’re all lovable. Let’s go to the hospital!
We might as well slap those lunkers on the grill.
Trout with lemon’s a fantastic dish!
We feel so damned unique, when we’ve had our fill.
Some okra could be at our beck and call,
viscous and stringy, to compliment the fish.
We’re all lovable. Let’s go to the hospital!
And yeah, we know we’ve each had a great fall
from our pre-birth state, no matter how delish-
nutrish the meal, when we finally have our fill.
Finned rainbow flopping in an ox’s stall.
They heaved the ball—it arced down and went swish
right through the ever-loving net. So let’s go to the hospital!
And when we finally hear our Master call,
I guarantee that we'll all yell, “OH, ISH!”
We thought we were unique, then we got our fill.
We’re all lovable. Let’s go to the hospital!