The Nose in the Garage
All the members of the family had enormous noses but Jonas' was so large he had to leave it in the garage at night--it wouldn't fit into the house. His brother, Jedediah, always complained about the nose--how it took up so much room. Jedediah wanted to get a high-speed boat, but his brother's nose absorbed more space than twelve Greyhound buses. One night, Jedediah became so enraged about the nose he drove the family Volvo into it. A headlight lodged in one of the nostrils. Feeling a crushing pain, Jonas rushed to the garage. Reinstalling his schnozz, he realized it was bent--permanently--that he must have a crooked nose his whole life. "Curses and ragweed!" he cried.
Floating down the St. Lawrence Seaway on an inner tube, past sea oats that flailed like break-dancers stuck on their backs, Jonas thrashed about, thinking it over. So preoccupied was he in massaging his proboscis, he didn't notice drifting into the ocean. From a viewpoint on high, all that could be seen was a huge nose inside a black ring like a pelican perched on a piece of driftwood--a brown bird resting on a child's swing against the blue sky.
Ellen Lindquist's prose poem "The Erstwhile Wire-Woman" was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her work has appeared in "Pif Magazine," "The Cafe Irreal," and MidnightMind.com's "Nantucket: A Collection," among others. Email.
© 2001 by Ellen Lindquist.
© 2001-2002 by Cenotaph, a publication of Cayuse Press.