I would not choose to be a fish,
always staring with jelly-globe eyes.
True, glittering scales are one consolation,
but always the threat of being eaten,
and always (excuse my vanity) that stupid, gaping mouth.
I would not choose to be a frog,
gulping air by the barrel-full each day,
and always the threat–
if I keep my current sense of direction– of
dessication, because I leaped
far away from a blue crystal pond,
and ended up far from any body of water.
I would not choose to be a bird,
for if the human sense remains,
I would never soar too far off the ground, and
would wind up tangled in a telephone wire,
because I have to wonder if both my and a bird’s attention
spans are about the same short length…