Urine in the Snow

published by Fran Shea

Being buried alive happens – especially if someone thinks you’re dead. Why be unprepared for such misfortune? I practice digging myself free of the shallow grave by waking from daily, coma-like naps. That, and a spoon in my pocket give me peace of mind.

After I shake the dirt from my hair, I ask myself a series of questions: What time is it? Did I really just stab that woman in the neck with a pencil? Why did I have to use that toilet on the 50 yard line? 

Whew! Every day is like a new adventure.

Sometimes my subconscious dreams up a new card and that usually comes out in my post-coma Q&A.

Vulgar! I know. I won’t apologize for ideas that The Lord puts into my head.

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