Saturday morning is finally here, a day for just us two.
I roll over, Sue smiles at me, says, “Let’s go to the zoo.”
Deep inside I cringe; of all there is to do,
securely in my “bottom ten” is going to the zoo.
I took a vow for better or worse many years ago.
Today will put me to the test; “Alright,” I said, “let’s go.”
I slowly take a shower, then nurse a cup of tea.
She says, “Get a move on; if we’re there by nine, it’s free.”

We finally arrive; I pull in the lot, then turn off the car.
She asks me what I want to see; dare I say, “a bar?”
We enter the grounds, she opens the map, I begin to stare.
Oh, my goodness, there must be hundreds, children everywhere.
Some are shouting, some are crying, some don’t have a clue.
I think I’ll join the second group, stuck here at the zoo?

Sue grabbed my hand, gave a squeeze, then dragged me
down the trail.
First on her list were monkeys with and without tails.
Some were playing, some were eating, some had scoliosis.
I saw one try to kiss another despite his halitosis.
Next stop was the Reptile House, dark and damp inside.
Sue said that I looked scared; a statement I denied.
We saw giraffes and elephants, tigers and a bear.
All the while I’m faking happy, excited to be there.

Before we leave, we’ve one more stop; she wants
to see the lion.
We pass a lady with three kids, two of which were cryin’.
We reach the den; I see a worker, food piled on a board.
The lion takes a look at him and yawns; he must be bored.
He doesn’t have to hunt, just strut and show his mane.
He’s probably thinking, as am I, “These kids are just a pain.”
All these wild animals don’t seem so tough to me.
Could it be because they’re caged and not running free?

Finally, we get home and I walk into the house.
I turn on the light, then scream, scared by a tiny mouse.