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Ink

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The Generation Gap
 

 “Get some ink!”
 His grandmother had called
 Over her shoulder
 As he left the house
 To run some errands.
 

 Odd
 He thought 
 As he lay in the tattoo parlour
 His skin smarting 
 Under the pressure of
 The tattooist gun
 

 “I got some ink!”
 He called when he arrived home
 Some 5 hours later
 With the likeness of her face
 Tattooed across his
 Back
 

 Odd
 She thought
 As she winced at the blood 
 Seeping from 
 Her image 
 On his back.
 

 “How do I get it in here?”
 His grandmother asked
 As she held up her calligraphy pen.
 

 The generation gap 
 Bites
 He thought 
 As he took some paracetamol 
 Before going out again
 To get some
 Ink. 

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