Dinosaurs

by Richard Hartwell

I spied two dinosaurs fornicating on the dining room table.  My grandson has obviously been here, but at only two it is doubtful that this tableau of cross-species copulation was intentional.  And yet, and yet.  He was, probably, “fighting” them; pitting one against the other, complete with growls and shrieks and pain.  As he tired of his game, he left these plastic monsters in their last pose, the dominant Tyrannosaur atop the alligator-like deinosuchus.

This domestic scene of dominance bears striking similarities to the struggle between his parents he sees played out daily.  But currently he’s asleep, so the dinosaurs are only fucking up his mind right now and not his life.  That will come later, during the ice age.