Surveillance of a Guinea Pig
I inspect him,
a sweetheart specimen
in a cage.
Fluffy like winter snow.
Squeaking in tempo.
In a cage.
Critically
he secretly watches me.
A wave of dread seeps into my head when I scroll through
my phone instead
of studying.
He monitors me in captivity.
Crazy cute and certainly not mute, Marshmallow the
Guinea pig squeals to demand a cold crunchy carrot.
Feisty while foraging through the vegetable garden, Marshmallow
the guinea pig has more to say than a cockatoo parrot.
Jolts of excitement race inside his fun-sized body.
In a cage.
Critically
lurking.
If I pick my nose, he knows.
Under his mustache smirking.
His squeak sounds meek
but
if he could talk fur - real, I’d undergo
an ordeal
if my secrets he chose to reveal.
A puff of fluff that I cuddle when life gets rough.
He popcorns and plays while I spend my days
in lectures on Zoom.
Marshmallow knows
I hate being alone
in a room.
In a cage.
Critically
I need him.
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