Trina: A Slice of Death

Trina pulls out her bench and sits in the Garden to chat
with a snake in the grass.

The snake curls up on Trina’s lap and flicks its tongue:

“What if I die and never come back?” He says.

Trina replies: “I had a slice of death, once. When I got to
heaven flash bulbs went off and I heard a chorus of angels
go ooh.”

“Then what?”

“I saw lots of homosexuals; they danced and had sex and made
everyone jealous.”

“Then what?”

“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 a notebook out of her bag. “God doesn’t like you.”

“What are you doing?” asks the snake.

“Writing a poem.” Trina replies.

“What’ll you do with it?” The snake slithers into the notebook.

“Hide it, silly!”

The snake drops from the notebook to the grass. “Have you given much
thought to time?”

“Not in a million years.” Trina replies.

Then she sighs and writes her rhyme:

I was feelin’ kinda shitty
real small and itty-bitty
garden snakes talked and
my mother’s all walked
but at least
I was still very
pretty.

 

(c)Rob Goldstein 1986-2017 All Rights Reserved