Why I Run When You Pluck Your Eyebrows
A Study in Desire
I stuck a glass bead up my nose once
just because I wanted to see
what it would feel like.
No one could tell I had a glass bead
up my nose, so I wandered around
the house, smiling and laughing
and knowing that my secret was safe.
Until I wanted to take it out.
I had jammed it up there pretty good.
It plugged up the right side of my nose
and I blew, but nothing happened.
I ran out of the bathroom
and into the kitchen,
screaming because I had a glass bead
in my nose and it wouldn't come out,
jamming it up there farther with one
of my pudgy fingers.
My grandmother, in a voice as calm
and soothing as grandmothers are,
picked me up and put me on the
kitchen table.
I swung my legs furiously, crying,
and I watched her get the tweezers
out of the drawer underneath the sink.
I screamed when she stuck the tweezers
up my nose, and she laughed at me
while I watched her throw the bead away,
holding a handkerchief to my bloody nose.
You remind me of a glass bead.
This is a really old poem from (if memory serves) sophomore year in college, which means cjtremlett and ravenrose were probably around when I wrote it. I always thought it was a little silly, but it has one hell of a punch line, no?
I stuck a glass bead up my nose once
just because I wanted to see
what it would feel like.
No one could tell I had a glass bead
up my nose, so I wandered around
the house, smiling and laughing
and knowing that my secret was safe.
Until I wanted to take it out.
I had jammed it up there pretty good.
It plugged up the right side of my nose
and I blew, but nothing happened.
I ran out of the bathroom
and into the kitchen,
screaming because I had a glass bead
in my nose and it wouldn't come out,
jamming it up there farther with one
of my pudgy fingers.
My grandmother, in a voice as calm
and soothing as grandmothers are,
picked me up and put me on the
kitchen table.
I swung my legs furiously, crying,
and I watched her get the tweezers
out of the drawer underneath the sink.
I screamed when she stuck the tweezers
up my nose, and she laughed at me
while I watched her throw the bead away,
holding a handkerchief to my bloody nose.
You remind me of a glass bead.
This is a really old poem from (if memory serves) sophomore year in college, which means cjtremlett and ravenrose were probably around when I wrote it. I always thought it was a little silly, but it has one hell of a punch line, no?