(The Pfrotsh-Poem)

The Poem
of the flea,
who sits on
the back
of the big,
grey, shecked,
evil dog,
just at the
moment, when
he scratches himself
with all his power
at a tree,
because he wans
that the big
itchy feeling stops,
because the flea
gets on his nerves:

Pffratsh!


March 1999

back