I met the unimaginable 

when I walking down the street

A monster that was so hairy 

that I could hardly speak

 

He was made of wiry hair 

And had legs with bubbly feet

His eyes were bugged

His face — that mug

A wind-blown picket fence instead of normal teeth

 

In the walkway where I met him
I stared at him — he grinned

Do I turn around? 

Just lay down?
What to say if I talk to him?

 

He giggled like a song bird

The sound a huge surprise

And the odor from his armpits 

I didn’t quite despise

 

Then he broadly smiled at me

And raised his furry brows

A question on his lips

He cocked his head and and put his pudgy hands on what must have been his hips

 

“Oh pardon me, I hate to bother,
But do you have the time?
I left my watch on the nightstand
And I’m running so behind!”

 

I shook my head in such surprise

At his words despite

Him looking like a dustball

For his question was so trite.

 

“It’s a quarter to 6.” I said

With both confidence and shock

Truly, I was flabbergasted that he could even talk!

 

He tipped his hat

(Where did that come from?)

And shuffled on his way
And I am rather confident
That I can surely say

If I ever meet a hairball

In the street after today

I will tip my hat at him

And promptly holler “Hey!”