Larry Yeury waddled into the Teacher’s Center <br />unable to actually lift each foot from the floor <br />flopped into a chair <br />and launched into an immeasurable pumpernickel bagel. <br />Suddenly, “OUCH.” <br />“What’s up? ” I asked. <br />“A roach in the cream cheese, Bernstein, <br />crunched when I bit into it.” <br />Yeury unlocked his bagel <br />to get at the crushed creature <br />then flipped it into the garbage <br />then stared at sections of abdomen and antenna <br />studying intently this message of mortality <br />finally putting the halves together and munching on. <br />“There was a roach in the cream cheese, ” I noted. <br />Waited for a response, None. <br />Continued, “You just swallowed about 68 known diseases <br />plus a few probably not yet identified <br />death in each bite, my friend <br />spit it out, save yourself.” <br />Yeury stuffed a chunk into his mouth <br />mumbling, “I’m strong <br />a fortune teller told me this and other <br />important information regarding the future.” <br />An odd wink, then another bite, finally a smile <br />and at last a belch followed by a bigger smile. <br />“What did she tell you? ” I asked <br />always interested how life tumbled into death. <br />Yeury gently placed the bagel on his lap <br />suddenly serious, face literally transformed, <br />then: “In this life a hippo <br />but after <br />a butterfly <br />yellow <br />with six small blue circles <br />on each wing.”<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-tracks-in-the-great-void/
