My life is complicated by a cockroach named archie.
He used to eat the books on the shelves of a new York columnist named Don Marquis and he would type, by bouncing on the typewriter keys with his head, poetry which reflected what he had been eating. Often he was puzzled by humans and their doings.
In a previous life he had been a poet of the vers libre persuasion and, it seems, he is still influenced by that life.
Anyway it seems he has a friend who is having a birthday and before he collapsed exhausted from his efforts he left this on my computer.
humans have birthdays all their life
one every year and when they are young
they need to behave to get their presents
and when they are older they can be bad
and sometimes get better presents
mehitabel is now so old that she
is often told to do nothing i wouldnt do
as if that were a virtue but if
the teller is younger then they need
to behave unless they are older
so mehitabel the catess who once
was cleopatra on the nile says
to them all that i will do what i like
for it is my birthday and my life
and ann a human who once was
helen of troy is having a birthday
while hoping that paris is not gay
and saying with mehitabel