The Ultimate Race

My rival and I,
We traded the lead,
As up hills and down hills we sped.
First he,
and then I,
and then again he
overtook the leader
and led.

But on the last uphill, he passed me once more.
And as he did he said,
"How much do you want this?"
That was it!
Six words!
Like the arrow to Achilles' heel when he bled.

The fire in my heart
That had fueled me from the start
went out.
My legs felt like lead.
With astonishing speed,
I lost my lead.
My rival, he raced on ahead.
And as I faded back
into the pelaton pack,
His words spun round and around in my head:

How much did I want this?

Not enough was my answer.
And that's why I became
a dancer
instead.

The Herring Plate in the Bering Strait

We were bearing straight
through the Bering Strait,
when I looked at my watch.
It was nine fifty eight!
I asked our waiter why our food was so late.
"It isn't," he said, and delivered our plate
of herring
for sharing.
Oh, boy! Was it great!
Freshly caught.
Piping hot.
Without question - worth the wait!

Why not buy a new gnu?

If I knew then what I know now,
I'd never buy a new gnu.

I love my gnu. I really do.

But for the price of two new gnus,
You can buy six or seven gnus used.

And even if the odd one's bruised,
You'd still have a working herd.

That's at least what I have heard.

The Sloppy Patron

The sloppy patron had the guile
To leave a sticky, stinky pile
Of empty wrappers in the aisle
Right there beside his feet.
(And two rows behind me).

No one could pass
Around or through.
And none of us knew what to do,
Until the ushers came and threw
It out,
and with it, you know who.
(I sneaked this photo from my seat...)