Us boys loved our things.
None finer than pearly handled
or wooden framed or aluminum crossed
pocket knives… of any size.
Mix matched shirt and pants…what?
No belt today…who cares!
But misplace the blade…. oh such panic! ! !
Knights of bikes needed armor.
A simple game this flinch we played
as boyhood courage took stage
who would walk and who would rule
let the blades decide!
But the game had rules it did, it did
and knights of bikes did obey, yessirre
For each flick brought feet together
Gaps got smaller, eyes got wider
Now Texas Holdem…a wimpy game
bluffing for money…come on now!
Flinch required steely nerves, guts too
as you played with blades of steel
“Do I love my toes”… the refrain.
Alas, Moms found out and ruled
the knights of bikes were grounded.
As penance for our sins we knew not
besides, did we not wear shoes?
Care to play Flinch?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem