No ‘Gator Love
an ode to endangered species everywhere
(and a tip of the ibis-feathered hat to the Lady with the Alligator Purse)
“No ‘gator love for me tonight”
sighs saurian Horatio,
“No chance of lizard lewd delight
or crocodile fellatio.”
“Erstwhile in days of vanish’d youth
I rated females by their busts.
A search for beauty more than truth;
non disputandum ‘gator lusts.”
“Now ‘gator love ‘neath moon or sun
Becomes each year more infrequent.
No lady ‘gators, not a one,
Meet standards e’er more lenient.”
“I used to species-specify;
Alas, none of my kind remain.
‘Tis urgent to diversify
Tho’ hybrids go against the grain.”
Surely some crocodilian miss
Seeks a gentleman of distinction
And would agree to that and this,
To save unique genes from extinction.
No phytosaur, no caiman green,
All alligators indispos’d.
“No!” grunts the gorgeous gavial queen.
No ‘gator rape with teeth like those!
Poets exalt warm passion’s swell;
Cold blood feels no less urgency.
‘ Tis desolate alone to dwell,
No ‘gator love nor croc cavorts;
His ‘gator tears do freely run.
Nil are the chances for intercourse
With reptile saurian anyone.
O Mystriosaurian descendant!
Lift up thy hopes; Love knows no borders!
With Sauropterygia attendant,
Go push thy luck with other Orders.
Thy species’ doom is not thine own;
Thou needest not a perambulator.
Go; screw whate’er you come upon,
If you can’t be with another ‘gator,
Turn your attentions far and wide;
Learn other, kinkier mating rituals,
And if they abhor your scaly hide,
Then they can always serve as victuals.
Since specific ardor has proved ephemeral,
Ignite some urges far more general.
Don’t be fussy; cold-bloods or warms.
Needn’t even be aquatic life-forms.
There’s a human: she might do,
So soft and sweet to crunch and chew.
How ‘bout a hooféd quadruped?
Their kicks are not much fun in bed.
The smaller mammals’ little bites
Spur the gastric appetites.
Marine fauna are a slippery armful.
They seem to think you might be harmful.
Avians peck, and fly away;
A tooth fetish is so outré.
Amphibians allure, from time to time,
But squash in puddles of sticky slime.
Reptiles like thee, whose flesh is firm,
Writhe and snap and fight and squirm.
Lower Genera are too exotic;
Couldn’t possibly find them erotic.
Exclude the myriad nymphs of neoteny,
Forget Minerals, the hell with Botany.
No options left for a lonely ‘gator
Whose ev’ry advance invites dissension
Except to become a masturbator
and thus relieve his sexual tension.
©1998 F.J. Bergmann
"No ‘Gator Love" appeared in Rhymes for Adults (2006)
Next Poetry Home