URBAN SEAGULL and THE SUBURBAN FOX

URBAN SEAGULL

I am an urban seagull,

Who’s never seen the sea,

Born on the roof a megastore,

Next to a motorway;

I’ve laughed and cried at the city,

Since I broke out of the egg,

I can laugh when I’m flying,

I can cry when I land to stand

Perched on one leg

On a lamppost or window ledge

But never in a tree

Because,

I am an urban seagull,

Who’s never seen the sea,

Some say I am a herring gull,

But I’m a gourmet

Of dropped take-away

And my feathers shine bright white

From all the cooking oil I’ve eaten.

When hot air spirals upwards

From sun-baked tarmac below,

I ride the thermal with all my mates

And higher than higher we go.

At the apex of the spiral

As I circle in the sky

A far-off glint of water

May catch my searching eye

But I just soar above the city

And I don’t let it bother me

Since I’m an urban seagull

And I don’t know what it could be.

THE SUBURBAN FOX

If you get up early in summer,

You may see me, lazing

Sunbathing in the first rays

Of the day.

Lying, yawning, content, alone

On the lawn that you thought

That you rented or even owned,

You maybe imagined that

It was part of your home;

And I’ve been living here all the time

Making my bed

Under your garden shed.

This whole street of

Discreet little Englishperson’s castles

Clenched tight by suburban arseholes

Is not your land,

It’s mine

I hunt across it in my own time,

And you seldom see me

Unless I want you to

And I show myself so you can clearly see

The true owner of the territory,

The urbane suburban fox,

My compliments, that’s me.