Rubber Soles

Skunks don’t save lives, crocs,

Crocs save lives. Skunks just sit

There and eat. They do not harbor

Altruism. Crocs run from place to place,

They want to help and be kind, sometimes,

They are the last resort

A croc would not harm unlike the putrid poison

Of a skunk

Crocs wouldn’t be caught dead

In a forest or a pasture or a dirt ridden

Home of a skunk’s inhabitance. Crocs

Could carry a 10-blade if they wanted

Or perform cardiac surgery. These crocs

Are clean and smell of bleach. They are sterile,

Squeaking on the floor as they trudge

Down long corridors

Some crocs climb mountains, some

Act as fashion statements. Skunks just

Taint the Earth. But these crocs,

They aren’t fancy, but

Are hidden by long pants woven with

Modesty. Skunks couldn’t do that. Crocs, well,

Crocs save lives