There was this piece of vomit
He was left beside the road
On Highway 61
The bus driver didn’t
Have anymore patience for him.
The piece of vomit didn’t know his way around
He mustve been from Calgary
He wore a checked shirt
With a thin tie
It didn’t make sense how a piece of vomit
Could wear such a ridiculous tie,
But he did.
It was hot
The type of weather
Where even your heels
Couldn’t handle it –
Like tip toing across
A burning bush.
This poor little piece of vomit
Crawled along the ground
Whistling to himself,
When your lips
Are not quite closed
And the sound is made up of struggled blows.
He had a canvas bag
Packed full of Christmas gifts
His brother lived somewhere
Around here, and had a big family.
He didn’t know their names
But knew there was three boys
And a little girl.
Everyone was getting a yo-yo.
Along the stretch of emptiness wild wolves roamed
Hungry and thirsty, they hunted life and spared nothing.
One wolf said to the other
‘Damn I am thirsty, where can I get a drink’
‘I see some moisture over there’ replied the other
Like a raindrop in the desert
They ran for the piece of vomit
Mistaking him for water.
Just as they approach him
He turns and sees his life flash across his eyes:
The time he sat in the bowels of a English squire,
The trips he made around the world,
The bar where he was covered with macadamia nuts
Until now where he was thrown out.
The piece of vomit braces the moment
The wolves are closing in
The piece of vomit throws his bag full of gifts across the road,
He closes his eyes
And thinks of nothing but rainbows
He waits more…
He opens one eye
Nothing is the same.
He opens the other,
Just like that, he is somewhere else.
He is sitting at a desk….
In an office building
Still wearing that ridiculous tie
But no longer a piece of vomit
But an awkward looking man.
He looks out the window,
He must be 100 floors up in the sky
The name on door reads: