Brown figure blends in with the rockfrom which he stares at me, or not,
I cannot really tell. The rhythmic swell of red
beneath his tiny mouth caught my attention
as I sat outside while talking on my cell phone
to a friend. I could not know if he (the lizard, not the
friend) wanted me to leave his territory, was afraid,
just showing off or if he fancied me his mate.
He looked to be the sort that listens well, but
size would surely be an issue. In all the fairy tales,
the frog prevails, but clearly the wrong reptile
for someone with tastes like mine. I would never
kiss a toad but this fearless anole (in Florida, three
syllables, but elsewhere only two) might just
stand a chance with such a handsome throat.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014
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