by Yaacov Dovid Shulman
The mole of responsibility came crawling along my marrow,
It sniffed with its inquisitive snout
The thick rich earth of my cerebrum,
It descended into the belly of self-satisfaction
And laid down its head on its paws and slept.
In the morning it had transformed itself into a glowing lion
That stood staring at me across the restaurant floor,
I could barely bring my spoon to my lips,
I left my croissant untasted.
All about me I saw people sitting at tables
With moles burrowing through their marrow,
Their faces looked pinched and they called for more coffee
And Kahlua.
That lion’s hair was glowing and he looked ready to eat me alive,
So I quickly leapt into his maw and I said,
“Gallop, mighty lion, gallop!”
And we are galloping still.
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