Like some weird parrot, you ride
along for my morning walk,
golden legs akimbo
as you get your bearings.

You peer both up at me and ahead,
large, red, compound eyes
protruding like the ping-pong  
eyeballs of a Muppet. This close,

you seem a bit cross-eyed,
pseudopupils appearing
near the ocelli at the center
of your lacquer-black head.

The sun is warm, and halfway
around the block you chirp
thanks and farewell then clatter
off to a neighbor’s crabapple.