the pit.

ohhhh, man.
a whole day.
gone.
it's thursday thor thunder day already.
but,
what about wednesday?
where did it go?
right into my knee pit, i guess.
believe me, duders.
it was the only way.
after two weeks of full-blown hotel status over here,
our house got cleared out.
and to celebrate our return to quaint togetherness?
uh-huh.
we left too.
with a disc-changer stocked and stacked with five piebald albums,
and a half-tank of petrol, y'all,
we made moves-
hours and hours of nearly nauseated hard-style pounding were incurred,
without wrath,
but with well-wreaked wreckage in it's wake.
hot and wet and hurtie.
(that's what she said)
portland, maine, y'all.
we hit it up and left it limping...
tattoos, vegan food, good peoples, the works.
we set out upon a serious sojourn of dark, dank, dreary driving,
specifically to get my body's A* kicked right off.
mission accomplished, folks.
i carried it home in a satchel afterwards.
***********
there was a surprise special guest star.
in whole foods of all places.
michael richards was shopping!
y'know, kramer,

or more importantly,
stanley spadowski.
(UHF, mutha-b!tches. represent!)
who'd have thought that a comedian/actor
turned branded-as-racist career ruiner would buy groceries?
or even more incredible, a bowl of soup?
at a store?
craaaaazy, huh?.
c'mon.
i don't all the way get the celebrity starstriking stuff,
but for the record,
UHF was a rad film.
***********
and now,
it's right back to the grind.
after two days of non-stop road warrior riding and rocking,
and a spate of splitsecond hours passing by at breakneck velocity,
the weekend is over.
it was more like a little minute and less like any kind of a respite.
now this is happening:
hummingbird tattoos, my ninjas.
that's my jammie-jam.
matching ones, even.
nice.
has has shown it's hand like an invasion.
forced-entry into summertimes.
it's poppin' off,
ready or not;
never quiet, never soft.....