I Am Not Goldie Locks
I find porridge distasteful.
I am not a Bears fan.
I have never approved of bed hopping,
and since my blonde comes from a bottle,
I still have enough common sense to realize
some doors are left unlocked for a reason,
are best left unopened.
It takes a little more than curiosity
to kill a cat like me.
Killing Dinosaurs
even virtually, in the city
is difficult. There are more than
tails and teeth to worry about.
Traffic does not care that they are
repeatedly running over a prized TRex,
and we all know pigeons poop
on whatever they please.
I try not to trip, as I trek, on various
cracks, break my own back, as I cannot
lift my eyes from the screen. I need direct
hits to level up my prize. Oops!
I haphazardly bump another roaming human.
They mutter a weak-ass curse. I smile
as I turn my volume up, let Rexy’s roar reverberate my own
disdain.
Electric Feathers
find basic flight boring.
Instead they fall
free.
From bird
to bird, teaching
the beauty of slide.
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A.J. Huffman is a poet and freelance writer in Daytona Beach, Florida. She has published 27 collections and chapbooks of poetry. In addition, she has published her work in numerous national and international literary journals.
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