Monday, December 03, 2007

Footsy Roll

Twist and shout:
aaaaaaaaaaFoot twists and nerve shouts.

Rock and roll:
aaaaaaaaaaBody rocks and ankle rolls.

Lightning bolt shoots up leg like fish shoot down stream
(Or Doc Holliday shoots up saloon and disappointment shoots down dream)
And body crumbles to hardwood like week-old corn muffin crumbles to paper bag.

Lie in a heap but tell the truth one at a time.
That's just the way this world twists and turns:
For every bona-fide smile you give, a thousand painted ones you get.

If nothing else, one thing isn't for sure:
Pain isn't exclusive to clichés – it resides also where there's no pleasure.

I'm stuck in bed and my foot is an ouch potato.

Instead of a
They gave me a

All is swell
aaaaaaaaaaMy foot has an inflated ego
And, like an exaggeration, my ankle is blown way out of proportion.

Now I'm hip-hoppin', flip-floppin'
Tip-toppin' and be-boppin'

Infraction 'n' fracture
Enraptured 'n' rapture
Passion 'n' pasture

(Just a chip off the old bone)

I went to the x-ray place and I was seated: he told me my foot was
Thirty-six degrees Fahrenheit in Central Park and my ankle was expecting precipitation.
He gave me an umbrella and said to wear gloves and a scarf and boots.
I wondered why my insurance didn't cover the visit and why he
Kept on pointing to a color-schemed map with clouds and numbers on it
And anyway it looked nothing like a foot. I asked him if I needed a cast.
He said, "Don't you mean a forecast?" And that's when I knew he wasn't
A radiologist but a meteorologist.

Well, it could have been a zoologist.

I always thought an ex-ray was a sunbeam that fell out of favor
But then I see an X-ray is a photo worth a thousand bones.

So maybe beauty is skin deep after all.

(I once knew a guy who was a real bonehead:
He was so vain he would airbrush his own X-rays –
I think I last saw him chilling at the boneyard.)

I turned to the medicine man,
"So tell me, good doctor, is it fract or friction?"
He replied with an impish limp.

Does one cast a mold or mold a cast?
And anyway, do non-conformists walk around in molded casts?

My foot felt like it was at an Off-Off- (way-off) Broadway play with a weak cast

Also, I always thought a hairline fracture was a split forehead.
While lying in bed, you learn new things every day.
(Anyway, if a plane lands awkwardly do they call it an airline fracture?)

Br eak

I learned of tibias and fibulas
And I'm not tibbing or fibbing

(I think he who names bones also names medicines)

Some say it was a twist of foot but I know it was a twist of fate:
Only fate can take an innocent ankle and turn it, twist it –

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaInto poetry.