Day 82: If Everything Could Talk

If Everything Could Talk
Matt Zurbo


(Sometimes it’s good to just have fun. Art direction up to artist on this one.)

Imagine if everything could talk
like you and I.
If your sandwich could say:
“Please, I don’t want to die!”

If traffic lights could shout:
“Hey jaywalker! I said stop!”
Then give you a fine,
right there on the spot.

Or your glass of water hollered;
“Yipee! Going down!”
Would that make you smile,
or leave you with a frown?

What if that sandwich
refused to be your lunch?
Would you explain: “It’s your job!
Now let me have a munch!”

What if the footpath grumbled:
“Hey! Try not to stomp!”
And the country track
told horses not to clomp?

What if your favourite toy wailed
“Oi! Stop bashing me about!”
And the best voice you ever heard,
was the singing of a trout?

What if all the buildings
were talking in the street?
And every ant you approached,
pleaded for you to retreat?

What if the moon whispered
“Woh…!” with every star,
as they stared at you,
from a distance very far?

If the animals began to rant
at the local zoo?
Hippos reciting poetry,
gorillas joining in, too?

What if your stubborn sandwich
decided to organise a strike?
Then ride forever away
on a blabbering motorbike?

What if the clouds cried: “Boo!”
the ocean insisted; “No, trust me!”
an eagle chatted in the breeze,
a flower talked to its bee?

What if your hand then told you,
what you should or shouldn’t do?
And your bum, not you,
decided where and when to poo?

What if your mouth decided,
what it would or wouldn’t say?
Would you kick it out,
or forgive and let it stay?

What if your brain
had a mind of its own?
And they both insisted,
they’d be better off alone?

What if a band you saw
playing in the park,

with blurting drums,
shouting lights,
rhyming birds,

sang as if on one big ark?

What if you ran away,
filled your ears with fleece,
found and ate your sandwich,
just to get some peace?


The End

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