At the twenty-first hour of consciousness,
When my cortex has been
Sliced,
Lightly battered,
Deep-fried,
And garnished with lime,
A spider crawls into my ear.
It travels up the aural canal,
Gets to the ear drum and says,
“Hey,
I want to go further.
I’m trying to get to the calamari,
Excuse me.”
And, of course, the ear drum says nothing.
“Fine,” the spider says. “I’ll find another way.”
So, it exits the ear, crosses my forehead,
(grumbling all the way)
And enters the opposite one.
“Haha,” it says. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
But of course, it encounters the opposite ear drum.
“Are you for real?” The spider complains,
“Forget it, I’ll just see what’s on the web.”