Bless Him

Down the dusty, cavernous hallway,
I saw a man, whose youthful visage
contorted in such a way, that my own
face emulated his life-knowing
anguish.

His face melted, as if Salvador Dali had
painted it. An arch below his nose,
whiskers glistened with the gush of
salty, green goo.
Red buttons to the sides
burst forward, like crackling embers,
thicker with the tug of the arch.

What could it be
that has caused this
misery?

His eyes welled up with tears and
one trickled down his cheek,
as if it were the last shattered fragment
from a broken, star-stained sky.
His face rose to the shards
split asunder from the heavens,
flailing and wailing silently,
despondently.

Needing a mother to cradle him in her arms, surely
dejected by and rejected from
society. His sorrow cleaved my heart in two.
I wanted to talk to him, to plead with him,
"Please, sir, what could possibly torture your poor
soul so?" But then, as the paramedic words
mended my heart...

He sneezed.


- Bob