Glass I

by Danson Macrane

December 22, 2003

I once had a glass I
and in case you're reading this
out loud to someone
I feel the need to clarify.

Not a glass eye
as in an eyeball made of glass,
a creepy hazel doodad
staring frozen in impasse.

Nor some tricky
eye-sized marble
clenched within your skull cavity,
designed expressly by the glass man to mask your deformity.

But rather an entire me made of glass.
Hands, wrists and ass.
All stunningly in proportion and accurate in mass.

This is no lie,
I'm loathe of jest.
Merely something I felt an inkling to get finally off my chest.

It was a sight to behold
and a feeling to be holding,
this pellucid Botticelli was like paradise unfolding.

It was stunning in the sun
and just as beauteous at night,
when we did hit the town we were an ostentatious sight.

I and I would dance
beneath a chandelier of stars,
striking hearts with envy like a pair of live Renoirs.

Some would ask to cut in-
but none could turn this trick.
For to see me dance with another would surely cut me to the quick.

I and I would dance
as the others' envy-ridden eyes
were reflected in the silky, glowing, luminous face of I's.

And every night we'd go home
for a rub-down and Windex bath.
Such a propensity for showing fingerprints, no mere mortal hath.

Like a glorious lucent ice swan
who'd never melt into the punch,
I was lucky to have I, and I knew as much.

Which is why it stung a bitter sting
-that shattering affair-
I'll see it live in infamy,
the night I was dropped down the stairs!

Tumbling gracefully in a dive
a sight I won't soon forget.
Nor the sound as I hit the ground and exploded, I regret.

T'was fate I guess
Oh God the mess!
My rancor it commands.

And what's the worse
to this day I curse
my popcorn butter-coated hands!

Quote of the Day

“Early to bed and early to rise make a man healthy, wealthy, and in total compliance with puritan mores. All others will be stoned to death, just as soon as they wake up.”

-Dan Franklin

Fortune 500 Cookie

You are the jovial type who would gladly eat shit and ask for more, which will serve you well in the coming year, what with the shovel fork you got for Christmas. But for the sake of Buddha, remember to pack a roll of Certs. Lucky numbers 33, 57, 89, 105.

Try again later.

What Was That Guy Screaming?

1.	Four fewer years! Four fewer years!
2.	"Don't Worry, Be Happy" Bobby McFerrin, 1988
3.	I think I'd notice if my hearing aid battery had died, you crusty old bitch!
4.	Rectum? I nearly destroyed his anus!
5.	I have difficulty modulating my voice!

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