Inky-Dinky Do Or Don't....

I’ve been noticing a lot of “ink” lately.
Colin, dear reader and prolific food
blogger, you didn’t think I’d blog about tats?
Ha!
Everything and everyone is possible
food for my blog--so belly up!

What makes someone entrust their
tender, unmarked skin to a virtual stranger?
The tattooer looks at the tattooee
and sees a desert of unclaimed skin--
soon to be a work of art.

With my luck, the needle would clog
and spit out a series of connect-the-dots.
Anyway, if I saw a needle pointed at me,
I’d scream and run the other way.
Besides, a person needs a good, firm
stretch of skin for the artist’s jabbing.

I’m more like lemon meringue, kind
of soft and fluffy, but I’m working on
it. I hope to be firm as a scone soon…
Colin, see what your food blogs do to me?

Getting back to inking up…
I couldn’t and wouldn’t think of letting
Drago, Bronk, or Helga poke me with a needle.
No way.
I’d have to be wrapped in mummy cloth first…

I just knew something was up when
Jen thought she did a good job of
hiding her impulsive piece of fish art
from me a few years ago--but not for long.
I have the special gift of Knowing...

As time progresses, I hope those tigers,
dragons, fairies and fish won’t mutiny--
collapsing into a valley of sagging, wrinkled
skin--along with fallen arches…
Heh-heh…