Snub (For My Blueberry) Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

There once was a man quite content
he was well past his latter day Lent,
he imagined his life
as a single edged knife
when one day he was stopped by a scent.

Inner sensors reported the news
to the brain, which was soaking up booze.
Will you look at this then
it's a definite TEN
and it looked at you silly recluse.

It was sad but he walked to the Pub
thus foregoing a cognizant rub.
She was gone from his view
and it could have been YOU,
would you give your own spirit the snub?