I wake to discover an asterisk
on my left hip.
I try to wipe it off.
It sticks to my skin.
A little star
that has lost its way.
This is no tattoo.
I look for the footnote
to clarify why this hip,
not the right one.
Why mine, not yours.
It must have gotten erased
during the printing process.
At least my limbs didn’t break off.
Let’s make another turtle
and frog crossing sign just in case.
humour and economy, a poem needs nothing more…JIM
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