they used

to call it

Opossum

Dive Diner

that’s not just

any place

but the place

where racoons

fight ‘n argue

for left out

left over

tasty cat

food and chow

where blue-jays

greet alike

visitors

from all walks

and crawls of

god’s creatures

where mother

stray-cat con

kittens alert

watches her

offspring play

with food from

an oval

waiter’s tray

carelessly

placed on those

steps leading

nowhere but

into the dark

spooky house

where home is

for all three

mama and

papa and

baby de

Opossum

a local

variety

more often

admired

as road-kill

than alive

the vacant

neighboring

building whose

roof slowly

is caving

in to age

and neglect

has become

a wild life

habitat

just watch him

the froggy

kitchen chef

awakening

chasing one

purring cat

from his meat

cutting board

by throwing

his cleaver

towards a rat

the busboy

is ducking

as from the

corner of

his good eye

he watches in

disbelief

the racoons

sans argument

vacate the

battleground

leaving a

jumping frog

on a hot stove

in charge of

the kitchen

retreating

outdoors the

papa of

Opossum

is bringing

one car to

a screeching

halt only

to be rear

ended by

another

the cat says

"never mind

they always

use this same

stupid trick"

a black crow

looking on

agrees to such

"it’s just an

opossum

playing dead"

and we hear

in opossum

dialect a

scared voice

afraid of

harm done

to him who

now resembles

a flattened

fat rodent

con long tail

and tire tracks

in papa

opossum’s

honor they

call it now

Opossum