the end of the line.

twenty-five.
falafels.
twenty-five falafels found their way to my bellyhole.
the last day of the fair has come and gone.
the greasy, manure-laced fried-food and leather-goods stank is done.
no more whiffing up on the cotton-candy and cigarettes perfume of the midway,
no more crafts, no more arts, no more digital-printed wizard t-shirts.
now it's just all fall days and nights.
my brooklyn duders, d&k, only stayed for 24 hours.
that's some woodsly goodness drive-by visitation.
nice.
they hit up some military surplus,
got a vintage ten-speed for thirteen bucks,
and ate falafels with their homeboys and girls up here.
jess's brother rob and his ladyfriend sharon are still here, though.
that means that the fun can continue 'til tuesday.
word.
what's a great way to cap off an eight-day odyssey into fryeburg, maine?
how about a rippin' outdoor fire and a raging indoor woodstove blaze?
yeah.
that did it.
as usual,
the convoluted confrontational cadence of my heartfelt heatstroke penstrokes,
my gratuitously graphic and garishly grateful regaled regalia;
the warrior poetry of my infinite nature,
isn't going over very well with the folks from connecticut.
i'm telling ya'll,
sometimes, some people just don't get it.
i mean,
i can't expect to bring down the house with my sovereign sauce every time,
but not even so much as an uncomfortable snicker?
nervous laughter is still laughter.
c'mon.
this isn't a bear attack, ninjas;
just laying still and hoping it will end just isn't going to work.
not on me, anyway.
i'm a belligerent berserker barbarian battle-beast,
and that type of when-to-say-when crapola isn't my field of interest.
it just isn't poppin'...
and here i thought the homemade waffles and fruit compote
would've softened 'em up.
had enough?
give 'em some more;
never quiet, never soft.....