The Nose

The Nose
By Chris Commodore © 2008

A quarter mile on Conley Road,
I thought I saw a great big toad.
I checked again and saw a hose,
Hitched to a formidable nose.

There was no head, no eyes, no face;
I darted to a neutral place,
Just this huge member, six feet tall.
To hide myself and watch it all.

Now from my safe and secure nook,
I craned to have a second look.
Just as the weather turned to rain,
That nose was running down the lane.

With two large nostrils bare and wide,
It sniffed the road from side to side.
The sound it made as from a hive;
Confirmed to me it was alive.

So dreadful was that running snout,
I screamed and saw myself black out.
And when I came to, there it was;
Blowing the nose with tissue gauze.

As I got up to run away,
Perhaps it sensed my deep dismay;
It sneezed and blew me wide awake,
Across a cold and misty lake.

I told my boss, and she just joked;
It must have been that thing you smoked.
Unless someone is off the wall,
How could a nose be six feet tall?

But on my neighbor’s grave, I say.
This was no dream; there is no way.
I know I saw just what I saw;
That’s all there is; I say no more.