Enter the Teabox: Now I Have a Catface

This plastic beach ball 
has a cloaca. 
Radiation, man. 
It’s a hell of a thing.
For instance, I have a catface.
I woke up with it after
I went swimming 
in the stream down the road.
The swirling stream
of self-conscious fish.
“No one loves Superman,”
they say.
Ever since his space pod 
Smallville’s ecology
just hasn’t been the same.

- “Teabox” poem I wrote at a recent local poetry meetup. Random words and phrases are placed in a tea box. Draw six; write a poem. The random words/phrases for this one:

No one loves Superman
Plastic beach ball
Stream of conscious fish

Sometimes these poems are good; often they’re not. But frequently they’re interesting or playful or just a seed for future creativity. This one kept popping up in my head, so I figured why not put it into the world. It’s been a long time since I’ve thrown my poetry at people, anyway.

Oh hey, look, my first post.