A Bad Idea

Originally posted 8/8/2013.

A Bad Idea hugs my neck with icy meat paws,
smears me with an evil kiss
from a greasepaint devil’s face;

takes me out, gets me drunk 
and lets me slip, in disguise and unnoticed,
to the floor of a convenient dive.

If this wasn’t all mostly metaphor
I’d have handled it badly years ago
and wound up

without an eye, thumb, or testicle
but I’m intact enough that when he’s around
I forget all my years of sense.

Mr. Bad Idea, you think we’d be past this.  
You’d think we would be so intimately acquainted by now
that we’d be on more normal terms — 

I’d merely entertain you now and then
and hold you at bay the rest of the time — 
old wolverine, badger full of flammable cotton!  

How you do tear your way in
where you’re least wanted
when you’re most needed,

nestling into the dark crook
of my throat, giving me something
to talk about.

Everyone else, you’re on notice:
if you see me acting out, 
bloated with a Bad Idea,
be a friend: step aside and take notes

from a safe distance. No telling
what might be coming;
might be lots to tell
after it’s gone.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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