My Yo-Yo Soul
I’ve grown concerned about this whole
sneezing thing.
The everything on the inside of your head
doing its best to get to the outside as fast as possible.
The way you have power over it, but
only to a certain point.
Indeed, soon to find that
every bit of self-control
you’ve ever accumulated
is pushed aside as you erupt outward,
spraying forth sub-sonic snot and sputum.
Yes, viral viscosity gone vaporific
and delightfully arrayed across
the face of a complete stranger.
An interpersonal venial violation to which
his immediate retort is,
“God bless you.”

Bless me?
How did we get from snot to benediction?
Should I be sitting on a bus
and the man across from me
nozzles forth toxic effluvia,
well I’d have to be a real dullard
not to know that a
call and response has been initiated.

His call?
An explosive projection of that
which was once contained in his nasal cavity.
My response?
Something arcane like “gesundheit.”
And should I fail to make this response…
his soul is in peril.
But in peril of what?
Satan? Beelzebub?
The Dark Angel himself
there waiting to pounce upon his
snot smeared soul?

Is this really all about the minions of hell
dining on your innermost being
or is there the slightest chance that
what we’re talking about here is
superstition?
Something pagan.
Something from around 440 B.C.
Indeed, around this time in ancient Greece,
the belief arose that upon death
the soul left the body through the nose.
Soon after, the connection was made between
one’s expulsion of air and that
petit mal spasm of spittle spew known of as
“the sneeze”.

I guess what I’m getting at here is,
I need some facts.
When I sneeze,
how much hang-time are we talking about?
And I’m not referencing that
fine mist of virus I’ve added to the atmosphere
but rather,
that period of time my soul
hovers there outside the body.

I mean,
does it linger?
Does it stroll over to the coffee machine for a donut,
loiter a bit, and then
gradually meander back or
does it slam back within a microsecond?
If I hold a hanky to my nose after sneezing,
am I interfering with retro-soul flow?
While I’m clearing snot from my nostrils,
is my soul there impatiently tapping its foot?
It may just be that all the violence
inherent to a sneeze
has nothing to do with
the forceful expulsion of bodily fluids,
but rather that your introverted soul
is putting up a fight in an effort to resist that
momentary yo-yo sling to the outside
and back again.

And what if you and that person
standing just to your side
happen to sneeze at exactly the same moment?
Isn’t there a chance that
while both souls are out there
swirling about in limbo,
confusion might just ensue and
in a frantic attempt to regain
corporeal entry,
mistakes might be made?

This might explain why I’ve been acting so strange
ever since that day I exchanged sneezes with
Pamela Anderson.
That and why I now spend so much time
standing in front of Victoria’s Secret,
imagining how
I would look
in all that
frilly
lingerie.

©06 Jack Hubbell