the bears growled and cir­cled
Jim and his wife
and their two chil­dren.
they were goners
for sure.
one of the boys,
Rudy,
the smart one,
fin­gered the
sling­shot
in his back pocket –
he had eleven pieces of shot
and there were nine
angry bears
in the pack.
exactly the odds I like,
he thought, smil­ing.
‘Leave every­thing to me, Dad!’
he shouted.
when he pulled out
his sling­shot,
it got caught in his belt.
his belt tore free
and his pants
fell down.
the bears stopped advanc­ing
and began to laugh.
SHUT UP,
yelled Rudy,
who tripped and
fell over,
expos­ing his white ass.
the bears were still chuck­ling about it
later that night,
as the fire turned
and they patted their fuzzy tummies.

poem by Sean U’Ren

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