Tiger logic

Excuse me,

I’m a tiger

says my youngest son

crossing the kitchen.

 

He knows enough

to crouch low

and settles down

safely sitting behind

the breakfast table.

 

I flip the pancakes

as the bubbles pop

silently through the

hot batter sprinkled

with cinnamon that

fills the morning air.

 

Excuse me,

once again,

says the tiger,

but as you know

if you keep turning

your back to me

I will have to attack

because that’s

what tigers do.

 

I crack eggs

into a black skillet

and warn my son

that it’s dangerous

to fool around

when there are hot

things on the stove

and besides tigers

are afraid of fire.

 

He reminds me

that we have an

electric range that

makes heat but no

fire and besides

he wouldn’t have

to attack if breakfast

had been ready earlier.

 

Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2009. All rights reserved.