SLUGGING IT OUT

i lie flat on my stomach
prostrate on the garden lawn
the evening perches on a perfect cusp
between warm and cool
little breezes skip playfully over the hedges
replenishing the still air
my eyes hover inches above a carpet of clover
arms by my sides
slowly i raise my chin above the mat
lift my toes off the ground
feel the pleasant tension in my abominables
my chin strains higher
stretching my abs n chest n neck mussels
i hold the pose for as long as i can
then relax
sensing the pleasurable release
but as i lower my chin to the ground
i notice that i am not alone
level with my eyes
a couple of feet away
a slug has begun to make its intrepid way across the clover
spurning the safety of its shady flower bed
perhaps its goal is the succulent green leaves
sprouting from the far side of the oval lawn
i am its only obstacle
a mountainous impasse
a considerable inconvenience to my slug friend
who slithers slowly forward
until we are practically eyeball to eyeball
a slug's eye view of the world!
never before have i examined a slug so up close n personal
it is a couple of inches in length
chocolate brown in colour
with a paler orangey underbelly
its two sets of antennae wave around manically
is it a boy or a girl?
a hermaphrodite?
how does one check the sex of a slug?
funny how i've always had a certain empathy with snails
but precious little with slugs
i wonder whether they are biologically different
apart from the obvious
snails always seem so fragile
their houses so crushable
slugs?
just slimy and rather ugly
fit for nothing better than to be snipped in half
by the gardener's shears
but today i have respect for the slug's predicament
after some procrastination
and much antennae waving
my new pal abruptly turns tail
and heads back towards the flower bed
from whence it came
as for me
i roll over onto my back
in a very unsluglike way
and rock gently backwards into a shoulderstand
the blood rushes to my head
a different perspective
no clover
no slugs
just my feet
silhouetted against the vanilla sky
now i am sitting at the escape hatch
my legs dangling out of the aeroplane
i launch myself into the void
without a parachute
falling
falling
falling
a shape flashes past
a seagull's wings edged in golden sunlight
then
nothing
only
the
onrushing
clouds