Outside my window, the most unusual creature,
Its yellow body galloping, roaring through the streets,
Beating the asphalt, and eating kids.
Once into its mouth, they ventured,
Smiling, frowning, poking out their lips.
But I see no expression now:
Robots, they walk one by one.
I looked into their eyes
Which reflected their parents worried, uncertain smiles.
Where have the yellow creatures been?
Climbing the mountains? Swimming in the seas?
Traversing deserts, looking for black gushing lakes?
Maybe I never saw the creature—
Its brilliant, yellow fur blinding—
The hairy star, the hairy sun
On the street below the clouds to light the darkness and murkiness
Of the day?
What if the creature breathes no longer?
Eats no longer?
Did I see it out the window?
Maybe it was never there.
No. I have not seen it.
It was never there.