Strangers desert you. They sit on your face.
They spill their drinks on you, maim you with cigarette butts.
Bums burp and die on your flat green belly.
They all leave, just the same.
You’re one in a crowd of millions.
Your face is everywhere, like a blade of grass.
You are shackled by leg irons, obscured by advertisements,
Marred by squirrels and graffiti artists.
Even the plaque drilled into your head bears someone else’s name.
And yet, you remain graceful and humble, despite your eternal damnation.
Your best friends are stoplights, trash cans, signposts, trees.
You are related to each other, accidentally.
Their skin and blood are burned into your body,
Sewn onto you like the memory of a button.
*Earlier this morning, I awoke to the sight of one of these “skinned pelts,” the visual inspiration for today's haiku poem.🤣
Note: As you can see from the photo, this woven black and blue fabric-covered USB cable has been skinned alive by our cats.🤣 The white exposed portion, directly below the connector, shows the naked plastic casing after the infliction of critical damage.😉 The USB cable survived the direct feline assault but sustained a critical loss of -30 hit points.😉
Post by C.L. Irwin. All rights reserved.
Connect with me on Mastodon. ║ Subscribe to this blog's RSS feed.
