He ate his plastic bag of fruit
in a sea of sweet snicker doodle
as he rehearsed knock knock jokes
to dusty chairs across the table.

Then like gymnasium whistles
a blue tin bell hoarsely hollered
and thirty ducklings hurried
to waddle out a wood red door.

Now, superglue on race car shoes
root the beast to burning black top
as his mates play patty cake
with no room for pudgy paws.

He leans toward the hula hoops
but pink bowed girls unravel and wail
calling for the tank top boys to save
them from the smile of the beast.

So, he crouches on the tar and holds
his sweaty hands over pointed yellow teeth.
He moans to hide the angry growls
from a round belly tucked in ***** jeans.