When you were small
I was a pig that rolled in mud
and a fence to keep horses in.
You rode the alligator
and laughed down asphalt double whees.
Frosty smoked a hammer then.
God made little green aliens–
we lured them out with bacon bits.
We clapped puppies into their holes.
When I am old, say
you will ship me to the circus
with your wild twin, where I will stir
dreams in this coffee cup.
Laurie Clemens is a psychologist who lives and works in Stillwater, Oklahoma, USA with her husband and two herding dogs. In addition to writing, she enjoys photography and gardening with plants native to her region. Her poetry has been published at Wordgathering and Soundzine.