Accidentally on Purpose

There was a man who loved a fairy,
who flittered to and fro.
She didn’t know why he loved her so.
She startled dogs
and made cats glow.
She put bee nests in car mufflers
and wasp nests under tractor seats.
She wore her long hair every which way
always a new color on any day ending in “ay.”

She really didn’t see what the man saw
in a spritely fairy who scared dogs,
euthanized cats,
tickled toddlers
(she could be invisible at will, you know),
placed rocks in manicured lawns
for the lawnmowers to find,
polinated flowers,
danced for old people
who thought like young people,
and sicced snakes on litters.

Her gossamer wings
were like stained glass.
And he saw her dance (“What are clothes?”)
in the air and tip-toeing on leaves,
Like a ballerina who didn’t know grav-it-tee.

Her cute little tush
and her small little breasts
were designed for effect
like a lily
(or a carnivorous plant).
She couldn’t help it
and was barely aware of it
(Lies! She knew what she had,
with her coquetish grin).

So the man came to the suburban park every day
from miles away just to see her dance and play
and sing and talk for hours about the ravens,
or the ducks, or the raccoons,
and every one and every thing
that had a family,
Lying on her tummy, feet in the air
or bunched up with her knees ‘neath her chin
or lounging on her side
carelessly tossing her bent knees about.

How he wanted to move there,
just so she’d come out to see him every day.

Yet the fairy was kind,
and wouldn’t enthrall the human man,
though she loved him so.
Because the truth was this:
She spotted him first,
and sashayed a little dance,
(“Oops! I forgot my invisibility?”)
oh my!

It was all so very, very…