They put on saddles in one locale
They even fly by evenings light.
They are brown and big and icky
and make my blood spoil.
The hairs on my body stand on end
and my spine twitches hot/cold spasms.
To be so ugly and multiply with ease
and survive a nuclear war.

Under street lamps they scurry
in my cupboards, they die in a hurry.
They love the summer time heat
Walk all over the mutts raw meat.
I stomp really hard on their backs
sickens me to hear that crack.
At least I know that one is dead.
I HATE COCKROACHES!

TeAnne © 15 Jan. 1999