When a chameleon calls, honey is near.
A question mark graces his derriere.
Mists move silently atop the roof of the world.
Chameleon is a glowing green flag unfurled.
Lounging relaxed, he has seen it all before.
Sans labyrinth, this tree-sized minotaur
kvetches to the Amazonian breeze.
This bluesman is due back royalties.
The day can be strange, depending on his mood;
once green, this freak's now vermilion hued.
One eye front and one rear-view
don't invite him to your next fondue.
Leave him be, this lord of fly.
It's witchy to watch him transmogrify.
The bali mynah is an iceberg of white;
This sucker is alone, hidden from sight.
Through labyrinthine leaves, soft eyes beam
in some jungle chili, a dab of sour cream.
When it comes to reconnaissance this bird's an old hand
those legs, involuntary music stands.
The most fetching wings, let the world behold
what nature can do when it aspires to more than slime mold.
Thank you for the serendipitous tête-à-tête;
We should have shared a cigarette.
You could pass for a slumming billionaire.
Quand est-ce que votre libération conditionnelle, mon cher?
You were a "star at dawn, a bubble in a stream
a flickering lamp, a phantom, and a dream."