Saturday, March 21, 2009

The Pear.

During my vacation in Eden,

My only confidant was a snake with legs—a native.


He talked to me

when no one else would

even though

we were on separate ends of the spectrum



He, romanticizing about old island socialism.

Me, still believing that the American Dream

can work everywhere.


We argued,

But both could agree

that if this was paradise

little could be said for it

and whatever created us

must’ve made boredom too.


(As for the purpose of the latter—we hadn’t a clue.)

So I bought a disposable camera

and took pictures of the Zebras and Dolphins

and of the snake

standing stoically beneath unbelievable trees.


And because I asked him  

the snake began to climb the tallest one

to pick me a souvenir

a pear

for my mother back in Wisconsin

He was spotted on the way down

by a policeman floating by on a hang glider

Who upon landing

promptly chopped off the snake’s legs

and fed them to the Zebras and Dolphins

and took me to the American Embassy

where I was informed of my deportation.


The pear made it past customs

nestled safely in my toiletry case

to my mother’s kitchen in Wisconsin

where it stayed till it rotted

six thousand years later.