Cosmic Upchuck by Leah Mueller

Datsun back seat, winding

northern California road,
I hopped a ride
from Planet Camp
to San Francisco

after spending a week 
in a pine forest
discussing astrology
with wealthy nerds.

My four-year-old son
had given all his Legos
to a smooth operator
two years his senior.

The smarmy older boy
had coveted them
and promised eternal friendship,

only to dump my son’s ass
after the transaction was complete.

My progeny: brooding and
Lego-less. Me: almost broke,
ready to take the train home to Seattle.

As the car corkscrewed
along the serpentine highway,
my stomach began to churn.

Suddenly, my son vomited
copiously on the seat in 
front of him, then reared his head 
and puked a second time. 

An odor of rancid tofu,
brussels sprouts and lentils
filled the interior of the small car.

“Oh shit!” 
  I whimpered.
“My son threw up.”
“I can see that,” 
said the driver,
who didn’t see it at all,
but could detect the aroma.

“There’s some newspapers
on the floor. Use as many 
as you need, then throw 
them out the window.” 

I tried not to look at the puke
as I scrubbed it with copies
of the San Francisco Chronicle,

but this proved impossible, and
my stomach turned over again –
fast and sharp, like a
newly awakened wild animal. 

I heaved my own lunch 
onto the seat, conjoining 
my puke with my son’s.

“I’m so sorry!” 
I said, after I finally 
raised my head.

By then, the driver had achieved
a sort of Zen tolerance.

“There are plenty
of newspapers. Use as many
as you need. I’ve already read them.”

I mopped and mopped,
threw entire sections of newspapers
into the damnable road, 
then puked again and swiped
the pages across my newest bile.

“Only ten more miles until
we can finally leave this highway,”
the driver assured me.

“People throw up here a lot.
Really, it’s no trouble at all.”

I managed to toss every chunk
onto the highway – which is
was what that road deserved,
and never felt so glad to see

a city in my life, as
when the lights of the
San Francisco metro area
gleamed above the dashboard,

but probably not 
half as glad
as the driver was to 
deposit us on the sidewalk 
in downtown Oakland
and drive away, saying,

“See you next year.”

Leah Mueller is an indie writer and spoken word performer from Bisbee, Arizona.  Her most recent books, "Misguided Behavior, Tales of Poor Life Choices" (Czykmate Press), "Death and Heartbreak" (Weasel Press), and "Cocktails at Denny's" (Alien Buddha) were released in 2019. Leah’s work appears in Midway Journal, Citron Review, The Spectacle, Miracle Monocle, Outlook Springs, Atticus Review, Your Impossible Voice, and elsewhere. Visit her website at www.leahmueller.org.