Ask Me Again
I’ve enjoyed writing for many years. I'm dedicating more time to the craft in my retirement days.
“Ask me again,” he said
And I could feel my face turning red
“Asked and answered, young friend,
I see no need to ask you again.”
“Oh, please, woncha please?” so quick came the plea
Then puppy dog eyes looked back up at me
“I’ve already asked you
All day and all night,
In hopes every time that each just might
Be the very.
Last.
Go.
But no…”
So not this time
I’m too smart for that
I’ll not be asking
You young little brat
That same old
Same old
Tired question
To hear in response
The affected expression
It makes me cross
When the answer’s the same
I’ve grown so weary
Of this young children’s game
“Oh, but I promise
I truly and surely do
This time it’s for real
I’m not fibbing to you!
I’ll answer the query
Then be done with it
And move on otherwise
With my engaging young wit
Do me this last
One favor, oh please
If it matters at all
I could beg on my knees!”
I paused for a moment
I’m such an old fool
Soft in the heart
And fond of the rule
The one of gold, you know
It informs and guides interaction
Its adherence always brings
Participant satisfaction
So I went there once more
To that trusty old tenet
Held back a deep breath
Hoped I wouldn’t regret it
“No, no, my young lad
Not necessary is that
Not down on the floor
Like a common housecat
Instead let me gaze
Into your eye socket beads
To see if deception
Is where this all leads…”
And looking right there
No ruse could be found
Just honesty and innocence
In those orbs large and round
So I grabbed his small chin
In my large, calloused hands
Opened my mouth
And then asked him again:
“Hey there, young man
What is your name?”
Then his eye colors changed
And I filled up with dread
Oh no! No, no, no!
A voice yelled in my head
And his mouth started to curl
On each side toward his cheeks
In gleeful preparation, I guess
Getting ready to speak
Then my fingers let loose
Of his young fragile jaw
And moved toward my ears
As he opened his maw
Too late to miss it
I plugged my ears with my fingers
The effect of that only
That the words they just lingered
Bounced
And echoed
Around
And around
In my head
Regretted
The dreaded
Sound:
“What”s my name?
Puddintane!
Ask me again and I’ll tell you the same!
Ah ha ah ha ah ha ha ha ha
That’s my name!
It’s Puddintane!
Say it again and it sounds the same!”
Come on now, ask me
Ask me, my friend
Oh please, please, please
Woncha ask me again?!”
© 2021 greg cain