Encounters of the Skunk Kind

Black and white pelt of long fluffy hair,

tail plummed and waving proud at the rear end, there,

meandering creature, looking much like a cat,

but you can’t mistake that pecular smell

if the dear animal is spooked.

 Stomp, stomp, stomp,

that decisive dance step of the offended,

as the skunk warns of danger and

raises its tail like a flag

then pirouettes fast,

aiming first wind for the enemy’s nostrils–

spray cooling and wet,

then shamefully alarming!

The stench is like no other,

the smell all encompassing and sharp,

like a million bad smells rolled into

a mist that melts into your skin

and won’t wash clean after ten washes,

or running a mile or two--

no escape, just gradual relief

as the smell wears off in a couple months.

There’s nothing like offending a skunk,

since the transgression lasts

for months and even thereafter,

a faint odorous reminder lingers

whenever you’re wet–

yes, you made one of

life’s biggest mistakes

involving a skunk.