Litkicks Message Board Archive

that's nothing, look at this

Posted to Poetry

A daily show and tell
for the summer set,
we’d share
our scars and wounds
with blemished detail and
over-exaggerated overtones:

“I got this one
from sliding five feet
down the street
after flipping over
my handlebars,”
one would say
followed by other tales
of mishaps and misfortune
on bikes, boards and skates.

“I was walking
in the woods
when a wild dog jumped me
and did this,”
said another,
pointing out a pair of impressions
obviously related
to rolling on Legos.

“See this?”
began the yarn
of the blocks’ greatest spinner,
“I broke my arm
on a dive
from the roof to my pool.”
Which always passed
’cause no one knew what it meant
to be double-jointed.

And today,
as I sit at my desk, an adult,
I smile and relate
how I fought off the muggers
and battled a switchblade
with reckless abandon
which sliced up the tips of these seven fingers.
While I hide bloody files
in a stack on my lap
and bask in my co-workers pity.