Pain Isn’t for Sissies

Ego was doing nothing of importance.

A check at the mirror.

A touch of the hair.

A smile of confirmation.

When, without warning…

He clutched his chest,

Surprised by this most unwanted pain,

Wishing so to run away from it,

But couldn’t.

The agony hung around

Until he surmised

Through a child’s memory of soiled clothing,

Along with embarrassment,

Fear arrived to give odiferous air some company.

Dressed in finery of black on black on black

With oratorial melodrama spewing,

Dread decided to stay around awhile.

Oh, how he wanted his alternative universe

To defend his awkward cowering,

Grasp of torso,

Clenched teeth,

And tearful eyelids.

But revenge stepped in…

Whispered sweet nothings in his ear,

Warned him of Big Mac’s aerosol aftermath,

Suggested mashed potatoes next time,

And aerated away,

Leaving him with his depravity,

Still active, mind you,

As if impervious to the country’s critical thinking

Trying to penetrate his thick body armor edgewise.

His impatience became even more gaseous

As if to ingratiate itself.

Fate…

That unfair subterfuge of surprise and shadow,

Offered little sympathy for his moaning,

While giving him some relief burps,

Slipping in paternal jive,

“If and when you grow up,

you’ll understand and things will be better.”

He was left glaring at the mirror with

Bloodshot eyes,

Runny nose,

Dry mouth,

And a middle finger raised.

He was obviously not ready

For growing up

Not ‘til

The freakin’ pain was g…

Ahhhhhhhhhhh

Oh, sweet Ronald McDonald,

The Donald thanks you.