Wednesday, February 21, 2007

#304: February 21, 2007

I've learned to turn my eyelids inside-out
and pop the saddle joints on both my thumbs;
to turn my ankle all the way about,
and shoot spit-streams through spaces in my gums.

What's more, now I can burp the alphabet,
amplified with a funnel and a hose;
I'll dislocate my shoulder on a bet,
and can, at will, shoot milk out of my nose.

Yet every day when I perform at school
Margie, the girl I'm trying to impress,
just walks on by, uninterested and cruel.
Her distance leaves me flummoxed, I confess.

I must keep trying, though--I know she sees.
I guess some girls are difficult to please.

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