natural selection

we never go anywhere,
or do anything
fun, she says.
you tap your hand on
the steering wheel
and roll your eyes,
glancing at the gas
gauge. hand me
that bag of pretzels
would you,
you tell her. my
friend jeannie
is in africa
on a safari with
her new boyfriend frank,
she says, handing me
the bag. frank? you say,
i like that name.
well good for her
and frank, i hope
the lions don't
eat them and that they
don't catch malaria.
i'd love to go to africa
one day. can we?
sure, but first
we have to go
to your mother's
house, remember?
it's her birthday
and you made her
a tuna casserole.
and by the way,
didn't we just play
miniature golf last
weekend? i'm talking
later, maybe this summer
we can take a trip.
go to kenya on a safari.
a photo safari, not
one where we kill
the animals and put
their heads on
our walls. you nod
and take a bite
of a pretzel.
jeannie has already
posted some photos
on facebook. this
morning she took a
picture of a zebra
with a monkey on it's
back. oh really, nice.
what's up with the
zebra anyway? are
they horses, donkeys?
and why the stripes?
those stripes make them
stand out even more
for hungry lions if
you ask me. everything
about them says,
come here lion,
bite me. charles
darwin call your office.
natural selection, umm,
not so much? we should
really really go,
she says, save up and take
a trip like that. okay?
hmmm, maybe, what
about the zoo? don't
they have zebras?
it's closer too.
still malaria free
from what i hear.