a saucepan to the face
the poke in the eye
falling off the cliff
all hurt more
than in the cartoons
i try many ways
haplessly
to knock sense into myself
groundhog day
death by a thousand self-inflicted cuts
this is no cartoon
i cannot tear off this
my skin
and so remain
tattooed senseless
Yep, I’m not a cartoon to erase and reinvent. I have three ink tattoos and a whole lot of life marks. I guess I am tattooed senseless also.
The opening lines set this up perfectly–how the whacky antics of animated, anthropomorphed dogs, cats and wabbits are nothing like real life mayhem, tho they mimic it so viciously–and following it, your phrases each an individual image, isolated, hapless, much like the narrator seems to feel, unable to come to turns with the slaps(tick) of fate. Really a well-turned out and cohesive 55 which it was also a pleasure to read. Thanks for playing Paul, and have the kind of kickass weekend that doesn’t include any pratfalls.