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Most tadpoles are herbivorous, subsisting on algae and plants. Some species are omnivorous, eating detritus and, whenever available, other tadpoles.

Almost all toads of the family Bufonidae have two lumps on either side of the back of their head, called the parotoid glands. These glands release an alkaloid poison, which oozes out if the toad is stressed or frightened.

Some people eat frog's legs, though
I never have. The only frogs I've even
met live as registered guests
in Amphibianville at the zoo.

*

My brothers and I found toads in the yard
and mauled them with our hands.
They spit toad juice on us, toad pee,
whatever—we thought it would kill us,
so it was briefly thrilling.

*

Frogs lived in ritzier digs, we assumed,
though it depends on how you feel
about swamps. We assumed anything we didn't have
came down to money, and usually we were right.

*

Except for the poison, the toads seemed almost
stoic about our fondling, tossing, screams.
They seemed so happy that we never actually
stuck a lit firecracker in their mouth
though it was frequently discussed.

We did keep one in a jar until it died and stank,
or stank then died, without a thrill.

*

A stream once ran between backyards
when our sub was farmland
according to local legend and the senile
farmer whose tiny house stunk
with dying. Regardless, water pooled
back there each spring, bred
tadpoles we pretended were frogs
one time and one time only,
watching them punch out
their limbs to become toads like us.

Frogs get all the glory.
People spear them at night.
What we could have done with spears!

*

It takes one to know one, we said. And
whatever you say bounces off me
and sticks to you. Bubble gum, bubble gum
in a dish, how many bubble gums do you wish?

We played a game called Kill
the Guy with the Ball
and multiple variations thereof.

*

Come back with me to the old neighborhood
where we blended in like toads in dirt,
toads in the high weeds of our yard,
thinking it was our nature.

When we took field trips to Amphibianville,
we envied their cool dark shelter,
and the tiny signs identifying them by name
that we'd never have ourselves.

*

Even now, my hands itch
for the toads of my childhood.

You won't find them in the textbooks,
and only those of us with dirt in our eyes
can even spot them there
in plain sight.

©