Journey Of A Cheese Sandwich Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

His name was Bread
he carried with him
Butter and Swiss cheese.
Bread went and led
simsalabim
the way into the squeeze

of masticators, tuff and strong
moved on and sideways now
drenched by the fellow ptyalin
air movements sing a song
and then facilitate, oh wow,
the slip-slide down into the bin.

A portal, Cardia, opens quick
to let them pass to get their bath
in acid of some potency.
They churn and turn, though looking sick
and if you should recall your math
the ph was what set them free.

On to the place where Enzyme lingers
for further treatment to condition
and break their will now and deflate
inside the town that's named Twelfefingers
they are a novel, fresh addition
but got here just a trifle late.

So with a burble and a hiss
into the upper Gut they fly
then slowly make their way at night
by instinct and much hit and miss
not being timid, dumb or shy
and somehow it all ends alright.

But if you're here to study art
at the far end of a long tract
just keep your ears inside the grass
I tell you now that each small fart
that reaches you, still quite intact
is a digestive from an ass.