by Than Pence
I open my package, and find it's full of unwanted stuffed dogs!
|Opening the box, I looked at what’s inside.
The scene, too bizarre. I could’ve cried.
Eleven stuffed dogs of various breeds,
Of which, I can say, I have no kind of needs.
I’m a cat-person: I dig the feline.
Cats are majestic: they’re nearly divine.
Dogs are rabid, disgusting, a mess.
They certainly cannot be one of the blessed.
A knock at the mirror draws my attention.
My mirrored self looks at me: a question.
He points at the box, acts out an action.
The idea’s too vague; it has no kind of traction.
Finally, my double breaks through the glass,
Shouts, “Give me my box, you pompous ass!”
Realization finally hits home just in time:
My opposite self really loves the canine!
I hand him the box with eleven stuffed pups,
Thankful they’re gone and I start to clean up.
The only mystery I still can’t quite solve:
How did my double somehow get me involved?
And does he have my box of stuffed cats?
Why didn’t he give it? What’s up with that?!
Line Count: 22