Rob Hanson
The Collector
In the neighborhood when I was a kid
there lived this strange sort of a man
he somehow lived off the grid
and he chased us with a frying pan.
He lived all alone around the bend
off Fernickle street
of broken shutters with his friend,
his only friend, a house mouse.
When we saw him, we always ran
it seemed to us he’d lost his lid
to survive we had to have a plan
if our parents heard, they forbid.
Then one day we saw a blouse
curious as all we tried to blend
she carried out a plastic grouse
we learned he had come to an end.
She asked if we would help her plan
and carry what he never got rid
her dad was a collector his life span
we said yes it was time to contend.
3 comments:
i bet he had lots of cool stuff to go through...eccentric people fascinate me...great write
Isn't One Shoot Sunday awesome? I was so just one of the kids in this piece...drew my in..deep in...love the subtle layers and the simple reflection of the complexity of the layers in the title/concept of the collector...so much more than one expects...Did that make any sense?? Ha!
He was a collector of stuff like rubber chickens? Great detail and use of layers. Like your flexible stanzas, and how they relate through image—for instance I imagine when he looses his lid, it's the one from the frying pan used to scare children.
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