- watercolor, ink
A painting commissioned to accompany a poem by my friend, Andrew Donnelly;
butterscotch pudding clogging
my pocketwatch i received from sasquatch,
a gold-plated gift for my retirement.
i was always his most trusted barber.
chocolate ants cover my rusted razor,
if i lick them off, will i cut my tongue?
are my tetanus booster shots even current?
i’m not in the mood today for lockjaw.
been busy trying to clear my clogged watch,
wondering where my imaginary friends ran off to.
they said they’d head for Seattle. well,
i guess their new numbers must be unlisted.
i am still so sad and listless,
as i lick the pudding the best way i can.
i would’ve preferred pistachio,
but i’ll take my butterscotch licking like a man.
do the tears streaming down my cute cheeks
make me seem less manly? that’s just the
love for you, it builds up so much pressure in my head
that the emergency valve must kick in sometime
why not while you’re we are in bed?
why not while you’re making love to
a distracted, pain-racked me?
i detect a faint-aftertaste.
it’s really just the metal and pudding,
but it seems to almost taste like you.
you taste like metallic pudding.
it feels good that i don’t have to tell you that,
and that i still choose to.