Snot Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

A beetle sat upon a lamp
on Broadway in the morning damp.
Enjoyed the traffic and the view
but caught, from much exhaust, the flu.

He coughed and sputtered and felt hot
and from the lamp dripped down the snot.
It fell, in yellow and in green
onto a Bentley limousine.

The driver chauffeured a big star
inside this very British car.
The star was into smog and pot
inhaled them both and coughed alot.

Thus it was REALLY expected
that he would have, that day, selected
to keep the sunroof open wide
as to enjoy the smoggy ride.

The star was sucking on a joint
he did not want to disappoint
his well-tanned lungs and his small brain
he also liked the funny pain

that settled in his bronchial tubes
just underneath his ample boobs.
Let me explain why he had breasts
(he wore a camouflaging vest) ,
his frequent alcohol adventures
had given him a set of dentures
and added so much estrogen
that his male hormones could not win
Prolactin made his titbits grow
and shrank the fellow down below.

So, as he lounged on British leather,
remarked on California weather,
a blob of beetle exudate
light green and of a hefty weight
dropped on the fingers of his hand
right near his same-sex wedding band.

Not knowing what this stuff contained
(his mind was also then detained
by cannabis) in potent dose
which had inflamed his hawk-like nose.

Not knowing, thus he wiped it gently
when, due to fate, the big old Bentley
swerved sharply to avoid a goat
and all the slime went down his throat.

The chauffeur, who had watched his star
accelerated now the car
but, through a gust of wind another
big glob did land on him. Oh Brother!

Again, he swallowed and enjoyed,
in fact he felt supremely buoyed
and wondered if the Santa Ana*
had brought from Heaven down some manna.

Meanwhile, the beetle was much worse,
he fell and landed in a purse
of a young maiden from LA,
who was returning from the Bay
in her small car made by the Krauts
and lived nearby or thereabouts.

Inside the purse was an aroma
that woke the beetle from his coma,
it was Chanel, the number five
and good to keep all bugs alive.

He soon recovered and then climbed
just when the LA Tower chimed
up to the seat to look and see
the girl and then the scenery.

'How cute', she said, 'a beetle yet',
and planned to make him her own pet.
She took him home, the place was small
the beetle did not mind at all,
though now and then, his thoughts went back
to when he had that flu attack
and wondered how it would have been.....
but then he'd flash a mighty grin
and wander over to the bug
to give his namesake a huge hug.

The moral, (did you guess my friends) ,
is that it CAN pay dividends
to seek the company you love
and fateful things come from above.

* Santa Ana winds are a frequent occurrence in
Southern California. They carry strange things,
sometimes across international borders. Once the hit the Glendale
Hills they back off and fall upon the innocent
citizens of the suburbs from Glendale to Echo Park.