With lame legs,
The gawky pheasant
Struts erect,
Scratching the sidewalk—
so mean and arrogant:
A violent narcissist if ever a bird could be.
And why shouldn't he be?
In a world of talons and teeth,
One must puff up
And project a posture that says:
"You'll regret fucking with me!"
And so, maybe I will!
For danger tells (to me) are more so invitations;
Saying with one face as afforementioned
And with the other, saying:
"I wish you would..."
And there it is!
Tempting fate:
A tradition of ours
Predating cave paintings—thought, even.
The damn bird knows,
And it doesn't even know
What it means to know!
Hardcoded gamblers, all:
A gift from God.