Six Feet Either Way

The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,

and the part that always made me giggle,

albeit a tad cautiously:

the ants play pinochle on your snout.

I never heard a giggle ring 
untethered at that last line

in its sing-songing children’s voice

after the worms part.

Nary a snicker

that didn’t carry the wee hint of a shiver

(a frisson, were I submitting this poem

to a contest with a $25 entry fee).

The shiver I accepted bravely this morning

while pretend-measuring the distance

between serious Dinky and his veteran-capped friend

outside the laundromat where they said the manager

had scolded them for not standing

at least six feet apart from each other

came with my silent giggle

at the horizontal/vertical implications,

both conceived to cheat death:

one from the living,

one from the dead.

                                                                                                                 m.d. paust