Clever Girl
The Misunderstandings of a Velociraptor
Clever Girl is what he calls me on the silver screen
I reserve the right to say that he is just that clueless.
Trying to outsmart the intellect of my kind
As he waves around his useless boom stick.
It’s quite sad really,
Seeing the ways they think they can tame us
Trying to say that we can be obedient and submissive
Taught to roll over and fetch like a common house pet.
I envy Blue.
She has it all figured out.
Biding her time in the cage while she tuns laps and listens
To a man no wiser than the next.
You see
We don’t take orders
We don’t do tricks,
We don’t lay fetch.
We lay in wait as we observe
Looking in the window of the mind of a man
Learning him and studying him
So that we can pounce.
Not everyone hates us.
Not everyone tries to tame us.
Some of you are just curious of us
Just as we are curious of you.
I asked a lady on the street where I could get some meat
But she screamed and screamed at me and flailed her arms.
I thought that was her trying to communicate and I copied her
But separated her from her flesh instead.
The same thing happened when I tried to shake a man’s hand
With my claws like razors and my strength unknown
It’s the only thing I don’t know about myself
As my strength eludes me.
They call me smart
They call me clever
Both things I already know
And not what concerns me.
I’ve been called strong
I’ve been called dangerous
I’ve been called vicious
I’ve been called deadly.
Why do they hate me so much?
Where all I want is to learn and make friends
To live in the society
That wants me for my skin or my claws.
I just want to be left alone to learn and observe
To hunt and feed on the prey that’s stolen from me
To run for fun instead of fleeing the lead and the steel.
I just want to survive.
About the Creator
Gunnar Anderson
Author of The Diary of Sarah Jane and The Diary of Sarah Jane: Between the Lines. Has a bachelor's degree in English from Arizona State University and currently resides in Phoenix with his wife and daughter who inspire him daily.



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