My lizards know one thing.
Running away lightning fast,
In a panic flash to hide in a crack.
Their warm eggs gestating down  below,
Waiting to crack open their hard shells,
And wriggle their sinister panic,
By their thousands every day,
Too fast to reason,
They cannot be trained,
They'll even leave their tail
Behind to follow their destiny
To find their place in the wriggling,
Tessalated plane of multicoloured reptiles,
That emerges in a slither from the liquid panorama of my mind.