(no subject)

[deckardcanine]

Tonight's poem involves a looser rhythm than most of mine, but it's still solid on the rhymes.

I was walking down the street, and from the corner of my eye,
I saw a cartoon character mosey on by.
It was nobody who’s famous – nobody I’d seen –
But he looked as though he’d peeled himself off a movie screen.

I couldn’t help but stop and stare at his painted back,
Until he sensed as much, turned around and said, “Hey, Mack!
Whatsamatta, aintcha seen a cartoon man before?”
Too ashamed to answer, I stared at him no more.

When I was sure he’d left the block, I asked a nearby kid
If she saw what I had seen. Sure enough, she did.
But to this little girl, it was no big deal.
It wasn’t like this toon had any special appeal.

The girl’s indifference left me utterly beguiled,
Until I got in touch with my own inner child.
I came to remember when I saw toons as alive.
Perhaps it’s in the younger hearts that they can really thrive.

Nowadays I see toons walking everywhere.
We never interact much, but there’s something in the air.
The sense I must have missed most from my early years
Has come to me again at last. I hope it never clears.

Comments

[thatcatgirl.livejournal.com]

This is my favorite of these so far.

[deckardcanine.livejournal.com]

Oh, good. I didn't have as much confidence in it myself.

[nefaria.livejournal.com]

I definitely went through the "cartoons are real" stage as a kid. It never really rubbed off, even after I learned how cartoons were made. I guess they just changed from real to high art in my mind.

I remember reading about one guy who said he just shrugged his shoulders when he found out Santa Claus wasn't real, but he cried for two days when he realized Kermit the Frog was a puppet.