the park bench

it's a hot day.

i see a squirrel on the bench,

wiping his

brow

with a tiny handkerchief,

sipping

on an RC cola,

staying hydrated.

move over,

i tell him.

brutal, he says.

sure.

sip? he offers.

fanning himself with his

bushy tail.

no thanks, i tell him.

i'm off the sugar.