I passed the joint,
but took two hits.
Does anyone else,
dare to see,
What I now see,
In front of me?
A mini brown pachyderm,
Sunning in the midday burn.
I couldn’t help but stop and stare,
In front of me,
Look! Just there.
What do you mean,
You cannot see,
What’s plainly staring back at me?
There affixed behind the glass,
Trunk to stern,
You’ll tell me,
That Snuffleupaguses do not exist.
I’ll take that joint,
Back from you.
I’ll take one hit,
Instead of two.
And cure my
Maybe it’s the midday light?
If you look now,
You just might spy,
A majestic and mysterious creature.
Where is it?
Stop sassing me.
It’s on the dashboard for all to see.
Just there behind the steering wheel.
Forget the medal of St. Christopher.
If you don’t look now,
You’ll certainly miss the fur,
And trunk growing more and more brown in the waning afternoon light.
Despite your unwavering insistence,
My self-esteem affords persistence,
And doesn’t need your validation.
Later, at the end of Day.
Sometime after we have walked away.
I will smile for having found magic in this world.