“Just A Little Pain, Please” Tanka 830


Cracked upper left rib*

tree-trimmin, makes my laughiing

less-than-an-enjoy.

 

Got tired of runnin’ into

that one too-big limb – it’s gone!

 

  • (Clearing my brother-n-sister-in-law’s  frontage roadside treelot now a double-decade old after not-really a hurricane irma hereabouts but windy enough, I got tired or running my glasses-clad face into this one persistent oak limb, about a good inch and more across.  Everytime I tried a new route to the street through the longish but not-so-deep loodlot that limb would follow. I swear. And cussed.  And so I took the too-small bypass lopers, gested one handle against the left side of my chest and brute-bullied the shearing tool through its final cut.  And me.  I averted using that side for moresuch work later, putting the fulcrum atop whichever shoulder seemed appropriate.  Been near a week now.  Still huts to cough – worse, to laugh.  But I found a good wormplace to sleep which accommodates my squirms without sunder.  This morning the tingle tells me to stay easy.  Have a few noon beers.  Salad.  Fish.  And, yes, dessert with full-force milk.  Just takes time to tell a fool he’s no longer seventeen, you see. One day. Real. Soon. Now, maybe I’ll be promoted all the way past kindergarten and eighteen.  Ya think?  Nope?  Thought so. Got a ‘nuther shoulder.)

 

 

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