I can only blame this poem on random word prompts (I think, because I don’t know what else would have triggered it). Oh, and maybe I can also blame my lifelong fascination for words with multiple, confusable meanings. Those are fun. Dialogue is fun, and no matter how old I get, I guess talking animals are too. I don’t really trust myself to feature them well in my major writing projects. Closest I came was “The Brave Little Porcupine” (unpublished children’s story). For poems, I give myself permission to goof off.
The following is a goofball rolled out of my brain circa age twenty:
“Good day to you, ass.”
“To my ass?!” cried the donkey,
“What mad man are you
To address my behind?”
“I meant you,” said the passer.
“I thought ‘ass’ was your name.”
“It’s Haw,” said the donkey,
“Family surname for years.”
“Hee Haw,” said the passer,
“I’m desperately sorry.”
“You know my first name,”
Hee brayed and went crazy:
“Spying and lying,
I’m shocked at you, sir!
Don’t you fear that I’ll stamp you flat?”
“You bet your ass,” said the passer.