I once kissed a chameleon’s tail, curled
gently into a soft fiddlehead spiral,
hanging from the thin arm of a bush. It
blushed and ran (or walked quickly) away,
then turned around and watched me. I
brought dead bugs to it once or twice.
I liked its mitten hands.
I have not done it a second time.
[e.l.elasigue / Eva L. Elasigue CC-BY 4.0 Creative Commons]