Downwind from Winnebagos, big mistake,
we stake our claim for tent space, pounding pegs
into the rancid sand (a piece of cake)
and slap mosquitoes from our arms and legs
and ask ourselves how is it that the dregs
of as it were our high society
afford the biggest campers (they’re not free).
A sudden noise makes the gators rush,
the possums wince, the pink flamingos flee.
All nature quails when Winnebagos flush.