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Chicken little

Chicken little wept alone
To mourn his troubling fate.

He fed his worm a catfish,
and put a nickel on his plate.

Waitress washed their counter
and unsewed them with her eye.

Coin slid down her bosom,
while her heels, as if to stop it,
stitched a shuffled, terse reminder of her presence,
'cause she didn't want to wait to see him cry.

Arm upon the shoulder
of the precious worm, his friend.
Consoles his wiggly cousin
That they will not squirm in dust beneath park swings in summer's heat.
Nor fear be trod on at a moment's glance
by deaf, confounded, dumb, enormous drums of human feet.

And in good fellowship they sat,
and sat a fortnight there and more
Perched on wound up stools
at their table.

'til they intruded from their public sockets,
out the door.

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