by Nik Perring

I stepped on the toothpaste tube this morning.
It reminded me of stepping on that slug.
You’d just gone
and I wasn’t looking properly.
I couldn’t.
It was on the path and,
rheumy eyed,
I must have missed it.

The toothpaste squirted out
canon-like
but silent.
Just like the slug.

At least I can clean the toothpaste up,
scrub it off my things.
I can replace the tube when I need to;
not the slug though, eh?
And not you.

Nik Perring is a writer and workshop leader whose website is here.