April Fool
by Steve Klepetar

Sun sails powder blue spring sky,
boat of millions of years. Up close
your red face glares. You ask me if

I think I know the truth, if I presume
omniscience, you demand to know
who the hell I think I am. Your
breath hot in my face, your glasses
steamed, your voice oily and ugly
and hard. Once I was a reptile, coiled

ready to strike at ankle or fist shoved
too close to the rock where I sunned
myself. Too ready to bite, I broke a
fang or two. But I've evolved at least
to mammal state and I'm resolved (this
just may be your lucky day) to let you live.

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