Archive
02/26/10
A Single Bite of Sausage
One morning, out of the clear blue (Which, far too quickly, turned to a murky terra cotta), You went from happy-go-lucky Jim Else To terribly grave Dan Done, All in a matter of a single bite of link pork sausage.
Suddenly, you were choking, foaming at the nose, Gasping, frantically, to seize your breath, Staring death square in the face, eye to ghastly eye. Then your head smacked the tabletop, With a thud so shuddering, the café went dead.
When you came to, Jim Else was who you were, And Dan Done was nowhere to be. Whether your modification lasted seconds or hours Was less consequential than the blunt fact That your attaché's gold-leaf initials read "D.D."
02/26/10
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