Abstract is difficult for me
-but-
I can tell you that
today
I know
rooted somewhere deep inside my small intestine
a tiny cell named Ted
is having a heated discussion with a friend
about how my brain
must be experiencing the exact same emotions as
a jelly donut in SoHo.
They have decided that this donut does not deserve to die
just because the baker decided to make said donut delicious.
It's not the donut's fault.
Why should he become
69 cents worth
of some stoner's sticky pleasure
and then be promptly forgotten?
Another cell
from the recesses of the large intestine
(I don't know his name)
counters back:
"Ted, you forget how vicious things are out there.
What about the poor man making the fated donut?
He must have motive.
He must need money to provide for his basic needs-
a family, shelter, and all that."
He has a very high-pitched voice
for a cell residing in the larger of the intestines.
"At least," he continues
"It seems that way to me
but what do I know?
I am only on the interior of
exterior goings-on."
Ted seems to hang what may
or may not
be his head. He and his friend move on
to another
lighter
subject-
temporarily reprimanded.
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