Friday, June 16, 2017


It's really getting quite ridiculous how
easy things have become hard and how
the hard things have, in turn, become easy.
Do you want bacon with that penumbra?
However many horsemen the apocalypse 
had, I now have five additional. All roads,
all schooners. All with fireflies and wild 
eyes. I take my preference, and go.
At the roadside today a carload of trash from
the trailer park end unloaded themselves loudly
from their blue car. Loud and heavy, tattoo'd
and proud, listening to 80's music. Loud.
What is that, I thought to myself, a blast from
the past, or am I seeing triple? The big girls
were still wearing those sleep pants they sell,
with baby hearts and silly flowers. Good God.
Go on. Leave this antique bushel. Prod yourself
past this madness. That's the way I had to talk
to myself to break the spell of this blue Hell.
Really. Quite. Ridiculous.

No comments: