The Squatter

There was a lizard in my bed,
it darted through the pockets in my sheets.
It took refuge near the polka dot sock,
and skippered over the chocolate wrappers.
The slimy creature seemed to like the dark
and secured each checkpoint
that lay below the four posters.
The bright eyed reptilian seemed to like me.
Most nights the little thing camped out
alone, in a shoe.
Near the the dog it waited.
The beast itching to capture, whole this time,
what seemed to have more reign over elevated territory.
With it came the earth,
the barren desert it calls familiar.
With dirt and bugs and air unaltered.
But now terrain consists of dirty clothes,
and endless miles of carpet.
There was a lizard in my bed,
who likes to tease the dog.
It once scurried from rock to rock,
but now sleeps in cotton sheets.

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