Cafeteria Observations

The Fork:

The other day in the cafeteria I was staring at a fork for a while. It was metal. It had some spaghetti sauce on it. At length, I wondered if the fork was in my hand or if I was wrapped around the fork. After much staring, I came to no conclusion and started eating again.

The Chair:

While I ate I sat in a chair. It was wooden. It was painted blue. Now I imagined that there were people in the chair. Small people. Small people with giant biceps, necks, and pectorals, praying to their own muscles. For in their muscles they found hope. I continued sitting.

The Floor:

Looking downward I saw the floor. It was gray. My shoes were resting on it. Under the floor, I fancied, monsters waited to snatch me and make me drink lava. “I don’t want to drink lava!” I yelled.

The Collapse:

What do I know about the fork and the chair and the floor? And what do I know but death and death and death and death?