I ran into Tom Turkey again,
Who quietly sat alone in a bar.
It had been a while, so I said,
"Hey, tell me how things are."

"Life for turkeys isn't easy.
You know each day could be our last.
Tomorrow I could end up being
A part of someone's sumptuous repast,"

He said, taking a sip of his brandy
And wiping a tiny tear from his eye.
"But," he added, "I guess you also
Never know when you might die.

"But a giant difference is
That though today you're strong and able,
If something happened to you, you wouldn't
End up on someone's dining room table."

Then he said, "Tell me something;
My reasoning here is kind of murky.
If someone is foolish, weak or inept,
Why do you call that person a turkey?"

"Sorry," I said, "but do understand:
The term wasn't created by me.
Nonetheless, I will attempt
To be more sensitive--more PC."

"Oh," he said, "one more thing.
It's a disgrace to us turkeys and NOT
Pleasing to see the people dance
A dance known as the turkey trot."

"That," I said, "is now obsolete.
The silly dance has faded away.
A turkey trot is now a race
Often occurring on Thanksgiving Day."

"That's a big relief," he said,
And then with a look of consternation,
He glanced at the clock, put on his hat,
And said he was going to a demonstration.

He picked up his placard and left the bar,
Making me feel slightly barbarian.
Across the sign that poor Tom carried
Were scribbled the words: GO VEGETARIAN!

-by Bob B (11-26-19)