This is an old "prose poem" (tells a story, doesn't have to rhyme, etc.) that I wrote a few years back. A good way to get a decent post in on the weekends, when I struggle to write anyway. Enjoy! "Too Risky" You told me not to pick it up It might be dirty, might have rust on it Might give me Tetanus But it looked interesting So I reached down and retrieved it It was about the size of a quarter But it wasn't a coin It was about the weight of a pocketwatch But it didn't tell time It was about the same texture as a cookie But it didn't taste very good I wasn't sure what it was So I stuck it in my pocket You said I shouldn't have Said I didn't know where it had been Might've come off some leper I might catch Tuberculosis I shrugged it off What did you know? You're just my older brother A little kid yourself I wouldn't listen When we got home I didn't tell Dad He's just like you In too many ways He would've said I shouldn't have taken it Maybe God had it there For a reason Maybe it had been there For hundreds of years In that very spot Maybe it had on it The dust of long-dead civilizations Maybe it might give me the Black Plague No, I didn't show it to Dad Or ever tell him But Mom, she found it in my pants When she took them to the wash And I had forgotten about it Because when we got in The soup was ready And the bread was hot And Mom, she said If we didn't eat the food While it was still warm Perhaps the ants would come And they would take the food away And we would have no food And then we would get gaunt And infected and might die We might even become Anorexic So I ate the soup and the bread And drank my milk Because if you don't drink your milk Then you don't have strong bones And you develop a Calcium Deficiency And then your arms fall off Least that's what my teacher said And she's pretty smart about things So when Mom found The whatever-it-was in my pants pocket And asked me about it I told her it was something That I picked up by the road And she said I was a smart boy For being so curious But she also warned me That curiosity has this tendency To kill cats And when the cats are dead And they start to decay and all If you touch the carcass You might get Gangrene So now when I see something Shiny and metal by the road I don't pick it up anymore It's just too risky to fool with. |
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Poems For Your Perusal: "Too Risky"
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