Rat Rat Armadillo Part Ways
"Are we gonna turn around,"
said the Armadillo to the rat?
Rat just snuffled following its twitching nose
rushing toward the miasma of offal piles,
of excrement and defilement.
"I prefer clean desert air,' said the Armadillo,
this stink is overpowering.
"Hungry" squeaked the thin rat.
'Yes hungry also" the armadillo agreed
but the stench of feted air
was becoming unbearable to him.
After several miles they reached the town limits.
Tent cities spread inward like a river of trash. Paths
of degradations and endless skid-rows
lay before them.
Armadillo stood stone still, appalled,
rat licked his trembling muzzle
a thin saliva dripped from his crusted lips.
"hungry" he muttered, racing onward.
Armadillo shrugged, turned about
to find a few wholesome ants under
some rotting wood.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment