MADE IN THE SHADE

Chimpanzees lounge beneath trees,
idly ignoring the shadowy forms
that haunt the full length windows
and the antic arms pointing
from another dimension.
A lazy silence drifts beneath the heavy net
tied to the four corners of heaven.
No cries of alarm,
predators are locked down a hundred feet away.
No excited chatter, no screams of play,
invade their thoroughly explored world.
Languidly they sniff, scratch, pick, chew;
they’ve got it made in the shade
in the Chattanooga Zoo.
Vines, securely attached, never rot;
molded trees and rocks are concrete hard,
never roll away or crack.
Bananas don’t grow up high;
they drop at their feet from a generous sky.
They don’t compete for mates;
their mates are carefully selected and delivered.
If they become ill, they are healed,
or gently tranquilized into oblivion.
In a secluded corner a pair of eyes, almost human,
hides a spark of patient anger,
searches for a chink in the shield
that protects him from all danger.
With a slender stick he taps
out a monotonous mantra…
Escape, escape, escape.