My Impression of Bugs Bunny

A poem about a true story

Once, when I was a kid,
I asked my babysitter, Maurika
(she later went to Harvard),
if she wanted to see
my impression of Bugs Bunny

She said yes.
I emerged from the bathroom
nude head-to-toe
white tissue wad wedged
between butt cheeks,
my little rabbit’s tail

I hopped and flopped
up and down stairs
floor-to-floor.
Maurika laughed (though,
it seems low brow
for a future Ivy Grad)

If I would critique
my bunny burlesque—
aside from the evident
issues of consent—
I’d say it’s light on Bugs,
heavy on Bunny

But, for a kid,
honestly pretty funny