Now I know how it feels to be a gazelle

Going down to the water for a basic need

I know what it’s like to be the mouse

In a crowded attic on the hunt for some seed

I enter the lot unsuspecting

Inching about, looking around, on my tippy toes

But the workers have a way of detecting

The head honcho knows

Like an alligator or a hippo

Or a starving snake

My eyes dart about, my ears twitch, all my senses are alert

Out comes one, then another

Kicking up the dirt

They gesture with their fingers and eyes

They shuffle in a circle

Oh, how they try

They close in as my head spins

“Look here,” they say

I see all the sparkles

Many colors and shapes

The apple offered by the snake

Inside there’s dotted lines under pages of shady contracts

Can I call any of my contacts

The sales people notice my hesitation

They’re stealthy, I watch them slow down

But a quiet resentment simmers

As I walk away, so does their dinner

“No,” “not for me,” “I’ll keep looking”

I decline kindly

But how they are mighty

They pull the big guns, all the shiny, on-sale ones

Sharp teeth and horns

I still don’t take the cheese

There’s a little more unease under the door

He raises his voice, brings out the “buts” and “for a limited time”

But you know what, I’m fine

Discipline, reflex kicks in

As I watch several young ones sign the dotted lines

Selling their lives, their time

The screens, the clipboards, big wheels

Just fancy traps

I bolt for the door with all I have

Like a gazelle on the open plain

Or a mouse using the best of his brain

Content with what I’ve got

My money and dignity

Sprinting away from the car lot