The Suitcase

By Joshua A. Apolonio

Dig, dig, dig a hole,

Because ‘X’ marks the spot.

Here, digging like a mole.

I’ve seen a suitcase like a pot.

There. I’ve seen a suitcase.

I can’t see anything good.

Look, nothing interesting in any place,

But maybe the owner, he might love this could.

What? I’ve seen tapes. Secret tapes, maybe.

To whom may this be, curiosity came.

I’ve thought to seek his privacy,

But what could I get? The idea’s lame.

Again, dig, dig, dig a hole.

My curiosity came to nothing.

Putting back the suitcase into the hole;

It isn’t mine, anyway. Realized I was stealing.