Raptor-Rex

Once I read a book about dinosaurs.

It said long claws and sharpest teeth. 

Scales that built bridges over taught sinews

and a mouthful of bloodthirsty heaths.

I poured hours into raptors and rexes

and the high towered brontos they raid.

I dreamed music of the dancing strings

on which they dangled their prey. 

I awoke in half-dream hoping that today

I would be taller and stronger and bigger

and sharper and longer and thinner.

I read that book instead of played. 

Next thing I knew I was twisting green

and a tail sprung from my butt.

My feet arches jumped high

and my toes; sharpened juts.

I could smell blood and sweat,

see in circles around my head.

I took one breath deeply in

and roared loud, causing dread.

For I am fearsome dinosaurs!

Running edges and clearing heights.

Spikes and talons singing fury

and my mouth full with every bite.

Who can stand my powerful form

When I am the pinnacle of the world?

For everything that can move

will be in my gullet swirled. 

I race soaring against the wind

but I would not be conquered easily.

Swallowing tiny creatures left and right

but sate my appetite? They were measly.

I stood tall on the highest mountain

and bellowed my terror reigning cry.

What or who could hold a candle

to a blazing inferno such as I?

But a trip, a slip, a dip dropped me 

and I soared too brief and fell down. 

I pushed my regular, boy's wrists 

against the cold, real ground. 

The earth went back to normal,

sad, dull and full of grey. 

I was once a dinosaur,

but gravity got in the way. 

I teared up a bit and sat down hard

and realized I was impractical. 

Being a raptor-rex was silly. 

I should have a been a pterodactyl. 

Thanks to Steve, Freddie, and Emily for this Saturday's inspirations, "Reading" and "Pretending to be a raptor." And in a slightly subliminal way, Bill Waterson for Calvin and Hobbes.