C. E. Chaffin

His silly yellow vest, bowtie,
suspenders, polka dots
and big red nose
dared me to knock him down.
Blam, blam! He fell,
rose with a goofy grin
then rocked a bit and settled
for another sucker punch.

Just like the bird that dips
into the water glass
and perpetually sips,
he reveled in repetition--
there was no competition.
Ultimate pacifist,
he smiled as if to say:
“Go on, have at me,
I’m your dad, your2005 brother,
priest, principal—sock me again!”

If he sprang a leak
I  healed him with duct tape,
each strip a medal
for his mindless bravery.
Yet when adhesive could no longer
stanch the bleeding air
he crumpled, a deflated pie,
motley features shrunk
into a blue pancake of sand.
Always another Bobo to break in.


(Crescent Moon Journal Winter 2005)

Posted 01/26/10

I wonder how many of my contemporaries owned a Bobo.