SHE’S THE PUPPET, by Llewellyn McKernan

She’s the puppet, but

he’s on a string in this story

of They

Have Everything.

He wears his pants a little too tight.

She loves to be pinched,

but not all night.

He’s the Ice Cream Emperor,

all he knows

melts in the sun, freezes in the snow.

She’s the Boogie-Woogie Witch.

Her lips are wise

and really quite smooth, except for the places

where they’ve been chewed

His legs are long and bowed and funny,

the hair on her head is soft as a bunny’s.

They live outdoors. They eat bear meat.

The feather of her thigh

tickles his teeth.

They wash in a basin the size of a nickel.

She calls him wise when he calls her fickle.

They drink nut-brown

the juices of a swamp, plant

pink roses in the middle of a romp,

blow down houses made of straw—

Wolfman and Woman! View them with awe.

They rinse out their wounds,

and tell them stories, and cheer up their scars

by calling them gory.

Sometimes they wake

in the middle of the night

and watch the moon or start a fight.

Then the stars come on

in waves that move

and darkness is a place that they can love.

They drive forever

in a hot pink truck.

God sticks out a thumb,

They pick Him up.

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