Trina chats with a snake in the garden.
The snake curls up on Trina’s lap: “What if I die and never
come back?”
Trina replies: “I saw a slice of death, once. When I got to
heaven flash bulbs went off and I heard a chorus of angels
go ooooh.”
“Then what?”
“I saw lots of homosexuals: they danced and had sex and made
everyone jealous.”
“Then what?”
“Then, I passed through a long tube and came out here!” Trina
smiles at the memory.
The snake looks up with concern: “Is that what’ll happen to me?”
“I don’t know.” Trina pulls out a notebook. “God doesn’t like you.”
“What are you doing?” asks the snake.
“I’m writing a poem.” Trina replies.
“What’ll you do with it?” The snake slithers up and onto the notebook.
“Sell it to Proctor and Gamble, silly!”
The snake drops from the notebook to the grass. “Have you given much thought to space?” he asks.
“Not in a million years.” Trina replies.
Then she sighs and writes her rhyme:
I was feelin’ kinda shitty
really small and itty bitty
garden snakes talked and
my lovers all walked
but at least
I was still very
pretty.
(c)Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved
