I would never sniff your butt to say hello.
Our species communicates visually and aurally.
No need to get that close.
Not that our sense of smell is derelict, merely
predatory animals rely far more
on olfactory predilections.
We’re the sort who watch eyes and mouths,
to auditory exclamations
to sort out who’s approaching
and what motivates intentions
encoded in that, “Hey,” “Hello,”
or a casual hug from the close and caring
who then might ask, “Umm, what’s that scent you’re wearing?”
I am the lizard Über,
unbeknownst to them.
Striped or mottled,
they stride my hood,
ornaments of surprise,
bracing against velocitous wind,
hopping from fender to
windshield to wiper blade,
from astonished to enraged,
plumping red wattles fringed with yellow,
wild-eyed and uncomprehending
how the perch to access winged prey
became a mobile platform faster
than a lizard scampers.
Winston Derden is a poet and fiction writer residing in Houston, Texas. His poetry publications include New Texas, Blue Collar Review,Big River Poetry Review, Illya’s Honey, Barbaric Yawp,’Merica Magazine, and numerous anthologies. He co-produces and hosts the reading/interview series Speak!Poet. He earned a BA and MA from the University of Texas, Austin, but is old school about school and used education for intellectual adventure. Whee!