Bang a Gong Get It On


In history my teachers liked to tell me I’d be the first to get eaten
That I wouldn’t survive a minute in the wilds of the ancient
I was always the smallest even if I was the tallest
Which I never was not even close
But whenever science said I was a dead end
I’d simply unfold & flail
My disproportionately lengthy limbs
& challenge anyone who’d dare mess with this long-armed baby T-rex
I’m the last of our kind
I know what happened to the rest all those stubbly stunted
Armed T-rexes who couldn’t reach the top shelf
Died out in the endless aisles of walmart & costco
While with a pack of wolves under each arm
I’d take the group selfie
I’ve walked the olympic beam for all those couldn’t-be T-rex gymnasts
All the positions at the barre I’ve taught in the name of T-rex ballet technique
When my kind were all but extinct well I just could hug myself
Twice around
For a very long time
I kindled the first fire & carved the first arrowheads
I even had a dalliance with a long-armed ancestor of the kangaroo
With whom I smoked black russian cigarettes with gold filters
& perfect gold rings we blew
& carved into savannahs our names so big you can see them from neptune
The best thing I ever did was come back as a little girl
Of little known weight
With a weighty top-shelf brain
I was the top-shelf T-rex in the schoolyard
No one dared mess with me
Even when they did
I simply lifted myself to the highest branch of the tallest tree
With tiny weighty roar I let them know their day was coming
Bravo not nearly extinct bravo to all the little dead ends
With their terrible sauros dreams