I looked at my deck,
And thought, what the heck
Is that pile of rags and wood?
Then my eyeballs popped,
And my breathing stopped,
When it moved like no junk pile should.
Slowly it rose,
On prehensile toes,
And quickly began to take shape.
Rags became clothes,
A face with a nose --
It looked like a 6 foot ape!
Out popped a tail,
That grabbed a side-rail,
And steadied him on his two feet.
Now I knew more,
As I opened the door,
T’was a monkey I was to meet.
“Hello,” I said brightly,
Smiling politely.
“Hello,” said a voice deep and mellow.
“Friends call me Mick.”
“IAM!” he said quick,
Extending a hand like a pillow.
“You are who?” I inquired.
He smiled, looking tired.
“My name is Iam (sounding spunky),
It’s a description
An abbreviation
For Incredibly Ancient Monkey…”
“I once was a tree,
And a vast prairie.
I lived as a whale and a shark.
I flew through the air,
Looked down from there,
And I rode on Noah’s crowded ark.”
“I sleep for a while,
As an old debris pile,
That nobody looks at twice.
But, when need is near,
That’s when I appear
To offer my aid and advice!”
“Remember this rule
Not to look the fool:
Nobody else can see me.
Nor can they hear,
When I am near.
So don’t introduce your new buddy.”
“I need to inquire,
Build my knowledge higher,
Until it burns blinding bright.”
With that, he’s gone.
I’m standing alone,
And shaking from sudden fright.
I turned around.
Went in, sat down.
I wondered if I’m a wreck.
I wracked my brain,
But can’t explain
The monkey fur on my deck…
Mick McKellar
August 2024
