Flickr Photo Download: Good morning Mr. Toad
1. Wanted: One Toad
I know, right where I lost him,
the exact moment he slipped from my fingers,
landed on his head, and shattered our lives.
He didn’t want the hospital.
I should have listened.
They wheeled him away on a stretcher
and gave a stranger back.
I told the doctor I had someone else's pet.
She pointed at the wristband,
as if that plastic label could make him who he isn’t.
2. Not Wanted: One Puppy
My toad had a whiskey-spiked smile
that always got him his way.
He drove like a demon,
sneaking a hand up under my skirt,
as the cornfields sped by.
The stranger huddles in the passenger seat,
shivering like a puppy from the pound,
his eyes squeezed shut,
hands clasped white-knuckle tight,
while I drive slow.
In case you’re wondering: kissing a puppy won’t turn him back to a toad.
3. Living with a Stranger
He’s house trained, now.
He picks up his underwear,
puts the seat down,
eats with a spoon.
His smile is like a tail wag;
he offers it when he doesn’t know what I want.
I guess he will grow on me.
I will somehow learn to love
this obedient child.
But, what I really want
is my old green toad of a husband back.
This wasn’t a fair trade.
View other poets and their impressions here.