The Mating Frogs
Well it’s April, and a Brooklyn girl
Along her Swedish country road,
Swedish husband by her side,
She, still naive and uninformed
Sees/doesn’t see the camouflaged
Small grey-brown speckled frog guy
Spackled on a grey-brown lady.
Garbage truck may come today; they’re in the way.
So nudging these two pre-historic
Monsters, (I beg Kent to leave them be.
They’re having sex). If that were me
I’d be in shock. “For God’s sake, it’s their yearly fuck,
So stop it Kent!”
But still he seems indifferent.
They don’t appear to give a fig.
A fuck, a fig - the bottom lady frog hulk big.
Bumping, lunking, schlepping, hopping off into the wood,
Off towards the lake, still glued
And much in love.