Dark as Othello's ill-used Moor
But not with beautiful ebony flesh is he suddenly colored.
Feeding the chickens,
But he was "All done!"
On his rump
in the mud
he grabbed me.
My tan coat now shades darker
Panicking at the filth on his hands
"Ewww--" he shakes them.
Frantic, this boy with normally filthy fingernails.
I think back to a strange t-shirt.
"Who Flung Poo?" it read.
Now I know,
Something far worse than egg on my face.