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  Goo Goo G'Jube

F. John Sharp
 

 

 
            I'm sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come. Literally. The cat splashed around in my cereal when I got up to check if the movers had arrived. I heard a crunch as I sat.

           I’m crying.

 

           Corporation t-shirt doesn't fit anymore. Relocation blues. Veronica found the stress too much and has settled into a routine moving groceries across a plate of glass until she hears a beep. I'm expected to leave her behind.

 

           I'm letting my face grow long.

 

           I called ahead to see if I could start a week late. They said it doesn't matter much cause every day is the same. Chickens, chickens, chickens. I'm only glad we don't kill them. See how they run like pigs from a gun. I couldn't stand that.

 

           The van is still not here. I may have to see if I can delay one more day. We get t-shirts that say, "I Am the Egg Man." There is no end to packing eggs, they tell me. I hope to pack enough eggs to stop wondering if any of the cartons I touch will also be touched by Veronica.

 


 

 

 

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