I dipped my toe in the acid

and came out scarred

but alive, still in possession

of a beating heart,

and doesn’t that just annoy you

as you sit tapping your little

finger on the side

of your chair, despair

at your failure

to push my head in to the caustic

bubbling green-eyed material,

at least not enough to blind me;

despite the damage and the loose

appearance of my skin and dying flesh,

I am still whole, you

have never been more

than a pale, insignificant Crippen.

Ian D. Hall 2018