Bear In There by Shel Silverstein

There's a Polar Bear

In our Frigidaire--

He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.

With his seat in the meat

And his face in the fish

And his big hairy paws

In the buttery dish,

He's nibbling the noodles,

He's munching the rice,

He's slurping the soda,

He's licking the ice.

And he lets out a roar

If you open the door.

And it gives me a scare

To know he's in there--

That Polary Bear

In our Fridgitydaire.

Forget the Dog

Some might say that I'm overly protective of my shadow. My response to these people is a polite, "SCREW YOU!" They obviously do not understand the unique connection we share. Some say that imitation is the highest form of flattery. If that's the case, then my dear shadow is extremely flattering. We've been through quite a lot. For instance, this morning my shadow was guiding my feet to history and someone down right stomped on top of him!! Poor thing. If he wasn't already flat, I imagine it would have hurt him quite a lot. But he's resilient like that. Never shows any sign of weakness (or emotion for that matter). He just kept sliding along the concrete, silently leading the way.


After history, I was excited to greet my shadow outside (don't be fooled by indoor incandescent shadows... they're just cheap imitations). Stepping out onto slender blades of grass I glanced down, but to my disrepair my shadow was gone! I looked up, then glared at the culprit. Nasty, wispy clouds of gray smothered the sky with smug satisfaction. Greedily flowing in all directions, I nearly expected to be spat on, and consider myself down right lucky that I wasn't. The way the clouds smoldered the sun gave me chills. I realized that these glutton thieves were relentless in their indulgence-- not a single shadow had been left behind. Dejected, I walked home with sulking shoulders and lonely feet.


If that story didn't shake you to the core, then you're actually a robot and not a human being. It's a widely accepted fact (so  you might as well embrace it now if you didn't know). The good news is that shadows have more lives then cats and my shadow was there to greet me the next morning on my way to work. Sure, some may say that shadows are pointless, but those people are way stupid. At a recent book signing (for my new book "The Shadow and I"), a critic approached me wanting to argue the importance of having a shadow. She smugly stated, "This book is a load of garbage! Shadows are useless byproducts of the sun and nothing more. Can my shadow hold my Italian Caffè latte when I'm petting a parrot in the park after dark? No. Can my shadow deep sea dive for buried treasure when I'm sick in bed? No. Can my shadow be my designated driver when I go clubbing with my ladies in West Philadelphia and we get in one little fight and our mom's get scared and tell us that we're moving to our Aunties and Uncle's houses in Blaire? No. Instead we have to whistle for some cabs and when they come near the license plates always say 'Fresh' and have dice in their mirrors. If anything we'd say that these cabs are rare, but no... just forget it, because who really cares?" And then, I just looked at her and said, "You're way stupid." 


I urge you to take better care of your shadows and show them a little TLC from time to time. If you'd like to learn how to nurture your shadow, pick up a copy of my book "5 Secrets to Love: A Baker's Guide to Gold-digging" for 7 easy payments of $52.31. You can purchase this book, file for bankruptcy, or learn guitar by clicking here: www.yourwaystupid.com. Thanks!

Love Making

Are you thirsty? Are you begging for a break?
Come take a sip of my water, I was always taught to share.
Some are leery with their nourishment, but I'm here for you.
Let's play doctor, I've got plenty to go around.
You can take as many sips as you want of my serum, but you cannot bathe in it.
Submerging the whole self is not permitted, but I suppose a limb would be fine.

One more? One more? Just a little bit more?


I gave you an inch, you took my soul.
My salvation is contaminated.
Nobody told me it would get poisoned.
It's killing me. And you move on to other prey.
I can't ever get it back. It was so pleasant having a full vessel of the opiate.
The pain comes too sharply now. But I see the solution.
I see you with your vessel that's brimming with medicine.

And I need a sip... Just a sip.

Dear

Why am I only just realizing this? Usually so quick to catch on to puzzles and rhymes and butterflies. This has eluded me for years. Naive, Unaware, Ignorant, and Stupid were filling up the negative space on my name cards. I thought I was so smart. I can talk about chloroplasts, democracy, different species of flowers, religion, phobias and how your eyes work. But I couldn't see this.

Melancholy hands burn tracks into your hide and lips glistening with venom steal your howls. We are only animals in the arena. I felt the spotlight on me and put on this show. This terrible, grotesque, fragile, beautiful, broken, indecent figure shines like a star for a few fuzzy minutes. But my minute is over and the demons have come for their due.

Serious mistakes are what ground me these days. These things I can't take back are calling me home. And I'm so sorry. I gave something to you that was not mine and replaced it with the mask of indifference. But Time has played his trick and the mask has faded into something resembling morose.

No more roses for this one hit wonder.
They won't bloom.