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Childish Smile

by Dave Fitzgerald

I am running, my eyes are bright, my smile brighter. My hair haphazard above my rosey, sweat-sheened face. I am my own footballing hero about to score a cup winning goal when... my pursuing pal farts as he runs. I break into lung-emptying laughter. I am thirty-seven. Will I ever grow up? Oh, I hope not!


Author's Note: What form is this? Discuss :)

Posted on 08/24/2005
Copyright © 2023 Dave Fitzgerald

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 08/24/05 at 11:47 AM

Looks to me like a prose poem, and a good one at that. :o)

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