First, one elephant
climbs on top of
the yellow Volkswagen.
Worried about his weight
and the clash of color,
yellow car, purple toenail polish,
he finds his precarious balance.
Then, one by one, from the long line
in the quiet street,
each new elephant
clambers up
till there’s a tower
of elephants
on that car—
Graceful or
Laughing,
On Tiptoes,
Awkward, or Humming,
each thinking their own thoughts—-
One multiplies fractions in his head,
another plans her European vacation.
The last elephant in line is basking in nostalgia,
remembering the old lion tamer
with his shabby mustache and his
pet monkey who hated all elephants.
And only the first elephant,
the one at the juncture
of yellow car and
gray bristled skin,
only he is Tentative
about this whole Arrangement.
And, honestly,
I can see why.
