Zebra Days

Zebra Days

Everyone in the street wore zebra coats now that the animal
was being farmed it was good for the African economy;
of course some wore coats made of young zebras, the rich,
who just had to show their wealth, which makes sense if
you are wealthy there is no point hiding it. Zebra meat used
to taste unusual when the animal was grazing on savannah
grass, now it tastes just like any other domestic meat.
London used to have thousands of working horses and since
the English famously don’t eat horseflesh on wonders what
happen to that meat. I think it ended up in cheap pies, and
no question asked; the starving are not finicky about food.

I suppose a nobleman’s stead wasn’t eaten, but given burial
when it was old and knackered; but I guess it was given to
the stable lad so he could visit his girlfriend, with some rustic
style, and- on misty summer morning- before the bike was
invented, ride back to his master’s stable. I wondered why
peoples in the street were avoiding me till I saw myself in
a shop window; yes, I was a king lion with a fantastic well
groomed mane, sleek body and two enormous, (thank you
we don’t want to know) I smugly smiled and swelled with
pride, no point asking the zebra-coated cowards were I could
find a graceful lioness or two.