I’m all prepared to write a poem about what’s inside my pocket. I thought that was to be the prompt today. Instead this is pocket poem day (April 30) and I’m supposed to read my favorite poem. I love Shel Silverstein’s “Skin Stealer.” You can read that at the bottom. I’m pretty sure someone slipped inside my skin on more than one occassion, especially when I was a bit younger; like yesterday.
My pockets are empty, so my poem is about what’s inside the console in my car.
It’s Between Us
Just in case.
We might feel lost and need a map.
Or a tickle or a sneeze might grab.
You never know, snack attack
Could leave us unprepared.
We keeep a little stash nearby.
In case we stop to tan,
Or walk the beach or ride the train.
Some change could be essential.
You never know.
A note to write? An insect bite?
Sometimes we’re out past dark.
We might stop and neck. (It has happened.)
Breath mints might be good.
A nut to be tightened, a screw on the loose.
Maybe something just needs to be clipped.
Between us it’s ready just in case.
If only we remembered the place.
So much for my pooetry. (Was that a typing error or a freudian slip?) Here’s the expert.
Skin Stealer by Shel Silverstien
This evening I unzipped my skin
And carefully unscrewed my head,
Exactly as I always do
When I prepare myself for bed.
And while I slept a coo-coo came
As naked as could be
And put on the skin
And screwed on the head
That once belonged to me.
Now wearing my feet
He runs through the street
In a most disgraceful way.
Doin’ things and sayin’ things
I’d never do or say,
Ticklin’ the children
And kickin’ the men
And Dancin’ the ladies away.
So if he makes your bright eyes cry
Or makes your poor head spin,
That scoundrel you see
Is not really me
He’s the coo-coo
Who’s wearing my skin.