An Observation


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By Lauren Nagy, Editor

I larf and skip and spankle back,

I wobble leek and farmy slack,

I runny fall, I swanky blart,

I twiddle up and scribble spart,

I jelly drup and pigeon ski,

I quid and pip and smackaree,

I cranky twist and spackle smink,

I poky itch and riddle fink.


Somewhere back there was a time

When Mommy helped me out the door,

But since then I’ve grown –

Up or down? Can’t tell.

My shoulders turned to metal,

My face a sallow saggy slump.

Green and blue and dying.

I hardly know my name.

Into the arctic of my mind, I grope for a soul-

But why bob for a rotten apple?