I once wrote – in a poem
a line –
about ‘travelling forward and thinking back’
I loved that line
So much so – that I had to slap my own wrists
For getting carried away with it
I once jumped off the back of a bus
and somersaulted in the air
falling on a dirty wet street,
I would have slapped my own wrists
but I was too sore from the fall
I once got a dart in the head.
A school cap saved my life.
But that’s an exaggeration
– I lived to tell the story a million times
my wrists had nothing to do with it.
Another dart – comes to mind
Pleased as punch with their newness I was,
I threw one at a – departing – flat bed lorry
That was the end of that
They were good darts – they stuck well
Takes a flexible wrist to throw darts.
I once ‘speedied’ up a lamp-post
and hung there in space.
Dropping to the ground for the first time.
Good for strengthening the wrists.
I once got repetitive strain injury,
writing poems and other things,
More – other things – than poems
I hasten to add
repetitive strain – included the wrists of course
I should maybe end here
in case you think that my wrists
are in any way superior to yours.
I wouldn’t want you to get
an inferiority complex about your wrist
if you get my gist.