Something

   When I first passed this blob on the sidewalk many mornings ago, I was struck by its' design; translucent with areas of yellow and red accents. I first saw it as the vomit of an animal, or perhaps a poop, but it seemed too much like plastic for that. I gently nudged it with the tip of my shoe, and it moved in one piece, wholly. It appeared to be fairly solid.
   I reflected for a moment, and thought that maybe it was a more organic looking, realistic version of the fake plastic vomit gag that I would see for sale at Woolworth's, or advertised for in the backs of comic books when I was a kid.
   I wondered why a company produce something to look like goose excrement or vomit instead of dog shit or human vomit, like they did years ago? Was it conceivable that a demand had developed for a version of the old-time prank that would fit more seamlessly into places where wild animals resided? Had the market become so specialized?
   I decided that to know that the identity of the thing was not as important to me as the fact that it had captured my attention; when I realized this, I understood that the moment was the essence in this case, not the understanding of knowledge of something from it.

 
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