That Leopards Do Not

in fact, change their spots, is
perhaps true; I‘ve no way to know.

I do know you can’t roller skate
in a buffalo herd—or, should say,

rather, I have it on good authority.
Of this much, however, I’m certain:

each of us will crop the same horse
to the grave as we’ve flogged

getting here. Such nag
might suffice some to glory;

I expect not, but those silks,
be they tailored of pig’s squeal,

or ear, will flap the breeze with
recognizable distinction.