Synapses and Other Conjunctions
My advice? Wear boots, even among the dead.
Our barefoot friend, having separated the rattler’s
head from its body, picked up the six-foot
length to show off, and stepped back onto
the head, which though not alive, still managed
to squeeze venom from the ducts and inject it
through its fangs, into his foot. Consider this
a metaphor, if you must, but don’t belabor
it. This morning I am searching for
connections. The plumber says that when
the overflow is clogged, the sink won’t drain
properly, and I notice similarities between
vision and words and the dryer’s vent — how
twists and hard angles and blurry lint may
confuse the issue, perhaps even start a fire.
And before you say, yes, yes, that’s what
I want, a fire, consider other possibilities,
not to mention consequences. Confuse
one word for another, and you’re an idiot.
Let your finger tap the wrong key, and the
incorrect letter provides a glimpse into
the future, or at least beyond the neighbor’s
closed door, a passage of signals impossible
to predicate. But differences exist: decapitate
poets, and they won’t bite, or at the very least
their venom will infect your nervous system
indirectly. Other advice? Pause before sending,
look before you leap (or step back). Avoid fast
food and politics. Drink good beer. Laugh often,
breathe deeply. Contemplate your footwear.
“Synapses and Other Conjunctions” was written during the August 2015 Tupelo Press 30-30 challenge, and was subsequently published in September 2016 at The Blue Nib. Many thanks to Luanne Castle for sponsoring the poem and providing the title.
O at the Edges 
Thanks for the piece. Great work.
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I’m so pleased it resonated for you. Thanks very much.
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Great advice! (Fun to read, too.) I have my boots on – so my socks don’t get wet when my feet sink into our 6 inches of snow. Contemplated just staying indoors, but there are gorgeous landscape views begging for my camera … maybe I’ll check the dryer vent between shots of doves lined up on fence …
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The snow is thick here, reducing visibility greatly. I may put on my boots later to check the mail, but that’s probably as far as I’ll go. I’m enjoying the weather from the comfort of my “garret.” 🙂
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“Contemplate your footwear.” I hope you don’t mind if I use that at the complimentary closing on my next letter.
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I think you must, Gary!
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Great read. Considerations to be made. Watch where you step and always reread before hitting send.
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I need to be more careful about where I step!
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The world cannot do without plumbers, nor should the world do without poets… and I wear good safety boots to work, and there is always a sewer plunger in my ute….
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I am 100% in agreement, Ivor!
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Reminds me of when I lived in Oz. My fiance was always telling me to put some shoes on when going outside. I liked to go barefoot. Thank you for the reminder of those crazy times. J x
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I never went barefoot outside on my rural Texas property — too many thorned plants, scorpions and, well, snakes. And then there was the wild animal poop… 🙂
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You’re welcome! hah
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I’m considering doing another 30-30, even though they’re so exhausting. The titles, and the poems they spark, are worth it!
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Yes, very exhausting. It is such a great project. I’ll be looking forward to you doing it and hope you post each day!
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I’m considering June, but we’ll see.
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I just love this poem. Funny, truthful, unexpected metaphors. The best combo.
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Luanne’s title just squeezed out the poem. It was a fun one to write. 🙂
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