Gorge Buoyant

I once ate a fly by accident.

Again…

I want to be very clear on this.

It was by     accident.

I would in no way do this 

with malicious intent.

This is not to say I feel any form of

affection towards flies,

   for I do not.

In fact,    I despise the little buggers.

But let’s come to an understanding.

I     am an overwhelmingly loving and

   entirely lovable person,

and though I    loathe flies,

I absolutely    would not

consume one     in any 

vindictive manner.

 

Yes, it is quite understandable

   that flies have nutritional value,

but at this specifically stated 

   moment of ingestion,

I was not particularly malnourished.

I could easily have made it ‘til nightfall

without the sacrifice of his    

   protein sustenance.

Without a doubt,   I

   would have   survived.

 

Being as I am overflowing 

with raging hormonal butchy-ness,

it should be of no surprise that I once experienced

   a wilderness survival school.

Yes indeed, by bug breathed brethren…

   John Rambo      and    Yours   Truly.

Mano-a-Mano with 

nary a vending machine

within a fifty mile radius.

Would I slit Stallone’s throat for the 

      last        stale      twinkie?

Does Boy George own a pair of pink panties?

You damn straight!

I am not to be trifled with

when it comes to cup-cakes.

Especially with them there sprinkles on top.

 

Ahem… Anywho…

This guy    was throwing    up.

 

Wait!

I just prematurely climaxed my poem.

Let’s back on out and 

re-insert     from another direction.

 

Today’s Survival 101 objective 

   is to catch a trout.

Catch him,    cook him,    eat him.

And though them thar fishy things

   be a bit of a rarity,

all us men have    

easy access to worms.

Just dig on down into 

Mother Earthy’s womb

and they’re slippin’ n’ slidin’ a 

slimy squirm fantastic.

 

And this guy was throwing up.

   Yes, well…   

okay.

Let’s just move on to that 

post poetic oh so 

climaxadelicious 

   cigarette shall we?

 

Not too many fish in the creek but

a whole lotta worms in the mud.

And a worm being 

high in protein goodness,

the instructor goads our 

designated vomitee

   into swallowing one whole.

Swallow him live.

Swallow him down 

and be done with it.

 

Okay, let’s just jump to the

After-the-fact vomit vile-tastic.

 

He what did the puking tells me

that it wasn’t the aspect of

eating a worm    

that made him hurl.

No.    Seems that 

one of the side affects

   of swallowing a worm 

whole and alive

is that whole and alive worms

   don’t like to be swallowed.

That they resist the urge to go down.

   This worm…

This worm wanted out.

 

And I sorta figure 

this is the moment of truth 

where the worm        

gets religion.

That he’s in there sayin’    

“I hear ya Lord and

Imma willin’ to do 

whatever it takes ta get out.”

And there in the back of this fella’s throat

a disco mirror ball     startsta rotating

and the worm     startsta wigglin’.

And this guy, who    by the way,

has decided he’s not having a

   whale of a good time,

brings forth unto the creek’s sacred bank 

   a somewhat blessed worm.

 

And yea…

That fly I swallowed all those years ago…

Now that I think about it…

 

Sucker must have been a 

god    damn    

atheist.

 

©08 Jack Hubbell