Oh, to be loved

and love a woman

and take her for granted, but not really

to be more than a perfect husband

to be a slob, a slug, with slime

worth its weight in gold

to be inspired

the inspired life is the only one worth living

dirty laundry, and dishes, and dust

pile up

waste, excreted, by a slug

the slug wants to be slime-less

to please his female

the slug wants a spine

it wants to be beautiful

so it can find

a delicious strawberry

to suck on

a perfect rose

to sniff, and romance

with slime.

it’s a truthful lover

never making any false moves

slow and deliberate

it cannot hide

obvious emotions.

Most don’t like the slug

they insist it find the trash

but the slug doesn’t mind

he’s a connoisseur

of all living things

observing, slowly

tasting, sweetly, the nectar

the peach, the fuzz

looking up mountains, and canyons, and rivers

of strawberry-blonde hair

“Clean up your mess.”

And the slug smiles, and gets inspired

laying down a fresh line of slime

it has no teachers

they speak, but it does not listen

he’s a slug, that’s what slugs do

he’s self-taught

observing, thinking, it moves

poked or squashed

spilling its guts

dried in the sun

his death is due

Slime, is a silver reminder

of an inspired life.

7 thoughts on “Inspired Slug

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