Bull fighting

Every time I pour
An ethidium bromide gel in the lab
I think of carcinogens, pancreatic cancer
Or maybe prostate – which will give
Me an extra decade or so of life

And then it occurs to you
The fear of death is like stepping
On a patch of yellow oleander
Screaming as if it is a claymore mine

And only then do you realize
That death is everywhere
Down the crowded street, on the sting of a bee
Inside a slippery shower cubicle
Or in a bout of dengue fever

And then and only then
Do you unveil the toreador in you – taking the bull by the horns
Dancing the bolero
Holding a rose between your lips


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