Fail

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.
- Samuel Beckett

I want a tattoo eraser, and make it painless.
A bad-sex Undo button would be nice,
and kids should come with a refund clause
good till adolescence. Sell chainsaws
with limb-replacement coupons, and please
somebody invent a break-away noose
so I can avoid negative consequences
of any mayhem I might unloose.
How about refunding gambling losses?
Just slip them under the door, thanks.
So I make mistakes! I wear my scars
with sheepish pride and thank my stars
for second chances. My learning curve
is flat; I get what I get, not what I deserve.

*

NaPoWriMo took a lot out of me; on the other hand, it gave me momentum -- as long as I aim more for one poem a week, instead of one a day. That still counts as prolific for most poets, I guess.

The above: I was reading Kim Addonizio; beyond that, I have no idea what sparked the poem, other than the words "bad sex" or maybe "gambling." But clearly, I have read far too much Philip Larkin in my lifetime, and am channeling the old Brit fart, albeit with a Texas twang.

The Beckett line I have always loved; "fail better"! I try, I do try. The other day a horse sideways kicked me in the head and left a rakish wound above my left eye. Getting in the saddle seemed much safer after that -- I rode fairly well! For a while, I looked half Neanderthal, which is generally how I feel, anyway. The golf ball's gone now, and I just picked the scab off my eyebrow. (I love picking at scabs, especially when they come off whole.)

"Fail" -- in our Web 2.0 era, evidently a noun as well as a verb. So be it.