Wind-Up 1: Inchworm

Lives at a walrus RPM,

Like sun, burns yellow.

Wears spots, and chucks

himself along.

On and on.

Goin.

Smiles.

Eight chunky segments;

he doesn’t diet.

What

‘cha

doin?

Wha’s

goin’

on?

Eight, twelves, and other

inconvenient numbers.

He’s going by his own method,

And he’ll see you when he gets there.

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One thought on “Wind-Up 1: Inchworm”

  1. sweet poem.
    I first read “wears spots and chucks” without the comma and imagined for a moment that he wore tiny chuck taylor’s. haha!

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