There, my mask is on,
Perfectly concealing,
The wounds on the surface.
I have candy floss,
Bright-pink,
Right up in my face.
The little one beside me,
Wants to play,
Strong man,
Tugging me first to the hammer,
Then to the duck-shoot.
I am sucking in air,
In big gulps hoping,
No-one notices,
The man in the gorilla suit.
I have played the game well.
I rise early in the mornings and take long walks,
Arriving at the plaza for briefcase lunch.
I stroll back past the phone booth at,
Twentieth and eleven,
And call home to say,
I’ll be back by seven.
Today we’re at the fair,
And I’m hoping no-one notices,
The man in the gorilla suit,
Here picking pockets.
♦photo – MEG BHA at Gossamer Dreams on WordPress ♦
evocative short poetry – words move
Wow, this was surprising…I love how you wove us in and then gave us another view~ Well Done!
Really enjoyed how you wrapped up so much emotion and a story in such a few words. nicely done!
It seems that the pick pocket definitely has a well developed routine for use in fairs and carnivals. Sad that the son is along to learn from the father though.
I understood the poem better once I had read the comments……you definitely trigger empathy in the reader, especially with the little son beside him. The ending was a surprise, for sure.
Sophisticated elegant poem with a terrific twist
!
A very clever poem with all the fun of the fair, until the final line. An excellent piece of writing.
Eileen
lol…no i dont think anyone might notice a man in a gorilla suit…though the fair would be a great place to blend in a bit…you may have to hold a few babies and take some pics with the kids…but all the easier access to their pockets…smiles..
i like the ending. i wonder if i know that man in the gorilla suit.
elephant slave
Ooh, nice surprise ending!
Ahhh! This is one of those times when looking back, I see gentle critisism is invaluable.
Coming back to this I now am so happy. And so greatful for the in-put.
It works as it does now, and it’s free.
Thanks all.
You did that photo justice!
I thought you were going to go somewhere interesting with this.
Ya, Shawn, this one’s sticking just a little. Can’t finger my relationship exactly between father and son…can’t reach the sense of embarrassment. Will let it simmer. Thanks.
Would changing
“The little one beside me”
to
“My little son beside me”
accomplish what you want, Kolembo?
Then when we get to
“I am sucking in air” etc., we know WHY the big gulps and hoping no-one notices – would that then supply the sense of embarrassment within father in front of son which you are looking for?
Awesomeness as always. But I think you do yourself a disservice by adding:
“No-one must suspect that,
I lost my job last month and I’m,
Here picking pockets,
Here picking pockets for my son.”
It is already clear that your protaganist is unemployed and ashamed.
Great title, by the way!!!
Thanks for this! Shall attempt!
*android*
I dont know that I would have gotten it 100% if I hadnt read those lines earlier.
However it has MUCH more power this way.
Those lines limited the poem,they took at least 4 out of metaphor.
I am so glad I found this comment .
I was a little confused
Thanks. Yes, the comment was very useful. I wonder, however, if I need to change ‘man’ back to ‘father’…dunno…
“And call home to say,
Daddy’ll be back by seven.”
God, I feel like an idiot trying to advise you. You write so fantastically that I’m probably poisoning a perfectly healthy well.
I think the changes are on the mark. Man sounds better than father, because unemployment strips father’s of their manhood.
Haha! No worry’s mate! Sometimes poems pull for more…this is one of them. Other times it’s very clear where it’s going, who it is. You should see me tonight. Nothing…and I mean nothing. My brains a fridge. Straight to bed for me.
This is a powerful piece with quite a surprise ending.
Do you realize exactly how gr8 a poet you are! Or may be you know.
your writings are just fabulous … you are very good.
Completely blew me away with your final line. I was mentally moving along with the notion that we all wear masks, to a degree, and then you turned me on my ear. GREAT write!
This really draws me in. I wonder why the mask, why the wounds, why he’s hiding, then the pow at the end. You’ve made a petty thief seem a victim and the reader feel empathy. Good job.
a good Father does what he must do…a proposal here for the reader to accept the hidden realities amongst the ordinary commonplace environment…good write K
Peace, hp
my words
Moving and enjoyable on multiple levels. Well done.
I have a longing to help with the mask, perhaps because I know that feeling, though I’ve never been a good pick pocket.
In this piece you have managed to speak economically and sympathetically in at least three voices, gorilla man, gorilla man’s family, and those who look at, but don’t see, gorilla man. There are layers and layers here, a little gem.
This is fabulous! And I love the gorilla… 2011 is the year of the gorilla in my personal cosmic calendar. (I figure there are so many out there, mine is just as valid as the next.)
BTW – the gorilla represents the divine masculine – strong and thoughtful, but with a bit of a temper when pushed too far… (I know what I’m talking about!)
This is superb K. Has all the movement of the carnival and such a sting in the tail.