confetti in your hair

So annoying, at carnevale, when kids throw confetti in your hair, and they know it. And you deserve it. You need to be annoyed sometimes, by colored paper of joy and play and children. Good for you. Like walking in the rain on purpose. Just because you're alive.

My poem, "Butch Cassidy and Me Jumping," refers to a joyful day with a friend in Sicily digging up an old cesspool in a backyard. It hadn't been used in decades so it was empty, but we joked about the stink as we climbed in to pull out the bricks. I bet it had been there at least a hundred years. Back to the times of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, who, in the film, jumped into the river hand in hand.

Over at confetti magazine, Lisa O'Neil Guerci and Nikkilee Kozminsky are the poetry eds. Many thanks to them for choosing this oddball poem about my life in Sicily holding a shovel. Maybe I wound up here by jumping off a cliff. 

Check out my modest contribution here: (then cruise around the whole confetti world)

https://confettimag.org/poetry/butch-cassidy-and-me-jumping/