Alligator
by Steven Swank
It did not seem that dangerous at first –
I just wanted to pet its head.
What could happen, at best, at worst?
I thought it was slumbering.
It looked so calm, or was it dead?
“Danger” is all the sign said.
I was off the path, I admit.
Really, it could happen to anyone.
I did not think I’d get bit,
the ‘gator was just a little one.
Because blood makes me nauseous,
my friends warned me to be cautious.
Yet my momentum went unabated,
reaching toward the small reptile
as my whole face began to smile.
“Look out!” they shouted as I waded.
So, quickly, I turned, and leapt about –
just as Momma snapped her snout!
Her teeth caught hold of my laces,
her twist and lurch tore off my shoe.
I scampered up the muddy bank.
Then we watched, with startled faces,
to see what next it would do.
Her baby climbed her scaly flank.
When they emerged on the other shore,
it was then we noticed what was there:
a bunch, a pile, a profoundish mound
of every imaginable kind of footwear!
Now, there too, mine could be found
as she dropped it on the ground.
With binoculars, I could clearly see
boots, clogs, sneakers, flip-flops, loafers,
polished shoes once worn by chauffeurs,
and fisherman waders by a tree.
Careful viewing also revealed
a vast array of high heels!
Then it was we all had a laugh –
for all the danger and commotion,
the ‘gators had their own promotion.
Since they reduced my pair by half,
they’d release the shoe, for a fee,
a scrawlish sign stated plainly:
Lose your shoe in the muck?
Buy it back for just a buck!
A brisk business is being had,
the retail staff’s just too glad
to help you find yours in the pile,
though the line is long, and it takes a while.
I am convinced, well, pretty sure
the little ‘gator was just a lure,
a ploy, a pretence, a ruse,
a conniving way for snatching shoes.
The locals, I’m told, obey the sign.
I won’t give in, nor will I whine –
Grateful to escape just with scratches,
I left my shoe to their scheming
and gimp without it every day.
Now, each step has some meaning.
I pay attention to what signs say,
and no longer play with matches.
I just wanted to pet its head.
What could happen, at best, at worst?
I thought it was slumbering.
It looked so calm, or was it dead?
“Danger” is all the sign said.
I was off the path, I admit.
Really, it could happen to anyone.
I did not think I’d get bit,
the ‘gator was just a little one.
Because blood makes me nauseous,
my friends warned me to be cautious.
Yet my momentum went unabated,
reaching toward the small reptile
as my whole face began to smile.
“Look out!” they shouted as I waded.
So, quickly, I turned, and leapt about –
just as Momma snapped her snout!
Her teeth caught hold of my laces,
her twist and lurch tore off my shoe.
I scampered up the muddy bank.
Then we watched, with startled faces,
to see what next it would do.
Her baby climbed her scaly flank.
When they emerged on the other shore,
it was then we noticed what was there:
a bunch, a pile, a profoundish mound
of every imaginable kind of footwear!
Now, there too, mine could be found
as she dropped it on the ground.
With binoculars, I could clearly see
boots, clogs, sneakers, flip-flops, loafers,
polished shoes once worn by chauffeurs,
and fisherman waders by a tree.
Careful viewing also revealed
a vast array of high heels!
Then it was we all had a laugh –
for all the danger and commotion,
the ‘gators had their own promotion.
Since they reduced my pair by half,
they’d release the shoe, for a fee,
a scrawlish sign stated plainly:
Lose your shoe in the muck?
Buy it back for just a buck!
A brisk business is being had,
the retail staff’s just too glad
to help you find yours in the pile,
though the line is long, and it takes a while.
I am convinced, well, pretty sure
the little ‘gator was just a lure,
a ploy, a pretence, a ruse,
a conniving way for snatching shoes.
The locals, I’m told, obey the sign.
I won’t give in, nor will I whine –
Grateful to escape just with scratches,
I left my shoe to their scheming
and gimp without it every day.
Now, each step has some meaning.
I pay attention to what signs say,
and no longer play with matches.