Brown Flowers

My friend threw up in a cave,
Diving.

Big brown blooms of puke we had to swim through,
Clogged my respirator, slimed my mask
He couldn’t get up to the silvery surface
So he had to share his vomit with us.

As we drifted through the cave,
Towards the clean air,
Rank particles of puke,
Mixed with the air we breathed,

In our double panic,
The psychedelic mess,
From the beer the night before,
Snorted through the tubes.

I don’t know what the fish thought?


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