The Bear from the Black Lagoon Lillian Tookey

The Bear from the Black Lagoon

By Lillian Tookey

The honking and the whining keeps me three hundred feet deep in this cave but something irked me, it comes from your fireworks

I have a small jam jar and a tire man and a pumpkin bitch of a burden I’ve got blues, kicks, and thick screams, my own ass follows me as I flick a dime in the neighborhood

I wear penny loafers on my small bear feet tiptoe with claws and a checklist I am searching for your pot-luck to bombard fuck all this chit-chat and soup-bowl I need something better to do, nothing is growing

let’s talk about giving me 40 inches of hair in one night or knocking over these suburban trash cans or- I may pick up a child

and throw it, so please, throw the dress over your head and don’t look outside, a dark burlesque thing awaits you by the basketball hoop

I smelled the abuse and stopped by how about I challenge you and spit when I win give me forty more minutes to disturb the peace

do not leave me a key, I have my own four feet, and the rain to knock this evil thing you call home down.