I’ve taken to conkin’
my noggin’
on various standardized
household objects:
plain air wings,
raisin tracks,
anchovy remains,
oil of olé!,
bathtub rings
on pinky fingers,
dismantled lexicons,
bad grammar primers,
ergo, therefore,
id est, et cetera.
I am bumpt and bruist,
and raise from stool
to hit again and again
your elbow your
hip your kidney
your nape your
smile your smile
your smile. This
in an effort, mis-
guided, to hide
and while away
away away, wait
to create another
bump from your
heart.
© 2012 – Mark A. Douglas – All Rights Reserved
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