The Black Napkin Volume 1 Issue 8 | Page 17

13

Landmine

As I hear the click

of the arming mechanism,

I manage to stop

dead in my tracks.

And with a surreal

curly-q twine coloring

my suddenly erect spine,

I politely ask

all nearby persons

to evacuate the vicinity

and warn those folks

behind first floor glass

to protect themselves,

just before I pull out

my cellphone to dial

nine-one-one

in the hopes it will

magically provide rescue

from this predicament,

while forgetting

I am not in the USA

and this country

uses a different threesome

for automatic emergency

dialup.