2/1/20
Killer Caterpillar
She was a killer caterpillar.
Scooting down the lane.
Avoiding the annoying.
Groovy groovy games.
Could get crushed or smushed.
Wouldn't take much at all.
A slip, a rip, or even a the yips.
Could get killed by a tennis ball.
Kept on going never knowing.
What might happen next.
Eventually, she broke free.
Then I became perplexed.
Then about then, she turned and went.
In the sweetest little voice.
My, oh my, I'll be your butterfly.
Won't have to scoot no more.
Then that killer caterpillar.
With her blushing eyes.
Got took by a bird, a swooping bird.
Off into the sky.
GC
FGC
New America '76: 13. Our Very Own Hemisphere
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