Beady little eyes,
Now jostle in the den
And wait for the morsels
Or gills that’ll drop
For moments of insatiate claws.
Furry little limbs, now poised with rage
In primordial struggles in republic of hate.
Running along napkins of Mcdelicious sauce,
They scatter through the packs of Subways in trash
And gobble our leftover of Domino’s in haste.
Sipping through my can of diet-loving fizz,
I pause and then rush to my Prada in sale.