after visiting the zoo

we should
get a monkey, my son says,
as he jumps
around
in the house, from couch
to couch,
a banana in hand.
he's only
four,
but he can play a monkey
quite well.
why get one, i tell him,
when you do so
well pretending
to be one.
he jumps onto the drapes
and swings
across the room
before landing
on the dining room
table.
he makes his monkey
noises,
scratches below his arms,
shows his teeth.
i need a friend, he says,
biting on
his unpeeled banana.