I monkey with words,
try on hats, new songs, clashing cloth,
break the rules, knowingly and not.
Sometimes, roller skates and wings work
with a red feather boa-
unless it’s too long
when snagging it under a wheel
becomes potentially lethal.
Swinging from trees, throwing vowels like bananas,
and whooping it up in the jungle
I’m not likely to be invited in for caviar.
I’m having too good of a time out here
singing beneath the stars.