The Spec of Spit

The Spec of Spit

A spec of spit
Devoid of wit
Once lit upon a stone
The texture fit
“It’s here I’ll sit.
I’ll make this rock my home.”
But sunlight hit
And burned a bit
And he cried and he quit
And was gone.

Now was the spit
Devoid of wit
At blame just for being a quitter?
Or was it the aim
Of another by name.
By God, ’twas the fault of the Spitter!

(written circa 1965)

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