kneecapped.

i've got a great big basketball of splortchy red meat
where my skinny knock-kneecap used to be.
the patella may still be in place,
but the snowglobe of swelling makes it hard to tell.
i'm all puffed up and popped out.
my great-grampa must've been part balloon or somethin'.
how did i get such authentic battle-damage?
kung-fu kickin' sh!t?
outstanding debts to some good fellas?
rollerblading? (c'mon, that's not cool)
nope.
tsunami tattoo, ya'll.
good vibes in that place an' that.
i was there.
and as a result,
my rock lobster's done.
my knee's redone.
and i think somebody must be kidding me.
daruma, the dope little dharma-ridin' duder
who lives in his little nesting-doll pose,
directly on the bendy part of my legpiece,
is laughing at me through is moustachioed frown...
his do-overtures managed to harsh up my whole mobility,
again.
phuc, the ever-lovin' blastmaster extraordinaire,
was a gentle little feather-touch zapper.
my knee, however, wasn't informed of that.
the response was totally knee-jerk.
or a jerk's knee.
or whatever.
...hence the splortchy basketball.
it looks good, though.
of course.
to clebrate the half-session of suffering,
mr. tran and his wifey, sue,
joined us and our other buddy elsah,
for some meatless meal mowing.
yep.
green elephant hottness right into the ol' bellyhole.
it almost made the pantleg full of fluid-filled flesh forgettable.
almost.
and for the record:
vegan dining with two dope portlanders?
somehow even more delicious.
true story.
***********
the weekend's over.
it's all back on that grind.
hard styles,
harder hearts,
and hardest pounding.
i've got a fistful of frankfurter in my future.
it's weiner day at white mountain tattoo.
i'm ready.
if you're not,
then ya'll'd better get ready.
because it's a poppin'-fresh day over here.
the woodsly goodness.
the Folk Life.
my home.
chock full to the brim with sausage.
that's how it goes;
never quiet, never soft.....