My shoulder pain doesn’t quietly dissipate without
succinctly expressing its reservations, and having
said its piece, fades from red to grey; - explaining,
there’s no ungracious offence a token exercise of
typing with the left hand exacerbates, I am played
The Patsy anyway - a don’t even think of it riposte
blazes forthright & fancily, & residual agonies are
transferred dramatically to stymie both hands -
This ransom you’re holding me to I cannot pay, is
my considered reply. Why? And for what? - I type
as I’ve always done - tho' you’re suggesting I will
need to learn dictation to be pain free - crikey, it's
hardly a tame way to forsaken glory; the ranked
track to Googled insanity isn’t a pathway for me
© 16 August 2016, I. D. Carswell
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