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.