I’m sure you know about the story that if you make silly faces too often
Your face gets stuck that way
It’s not true
I know
I tried
But what they don’t tell you
Is that if you pop your knuckles too much
You explode
Yes, explode
Into a million little pieces
Chunks of You thrown to the wind
Coating the innocent bystanders
In a something not unlike the remnants
Of a sloppy mr. potato head doll
I got to see the world
I was lucky
My left eye went straight for Ireland
And landed in a green field
While my nose plopped down in the Indian Ocean
Where is sank into the sand
At the bottom
Where it smells a lot like a cold salty foot
But my ear
My left ear
Landed in the shopping bag
Of a Calcutta woman
Buying spices
From a man that reminds me
Of an older Indian Keanu Reeves
Selling turmeric
With all the charisma
Of the fish
Laying out
Two stalls down
(That man yelled much louder)
But the strangest thing
Yes the strangest thing
Is what happened to my tongue
Simply because
I’ve not the foggiest
Where it got off to
Except that wherever it is
It tastes an awful lot
Like rain.