all kinds of tired.

i dream of standing stones.
massive menhirs,
daunting dolmens,
and barbaric boulders.
it does not normally make for restful sleep.
at all.
yet,
i didn't dream even a little tiny bit last night.
and instead of restless rolling rocky ramblin' roads,
i just stayed up.
all flippin' night long an' that-
wide awake, tossing and turning,
and all the suckie sundries of associated slumberlessness included.
long nights, neighbors.
probably just not enough heavy lifting of the standing slabs.
i'm tellin' you guys,
hard work makes you sleepy,
although a little less so each day.
i only moved one grainy grabhandle glob granite yesterday.
admittedly,
it was a triple-hundred-pounder;
but still,
that's light action in relative terms of Folk Lively gardening.
and my nightie-night times paid for it in the end.
***********
i've got a couple of little girls in my house.
y'know what i think they've been eating behind my back?
coughie cake.
huh?
yeah, i spelled it right:
coughie.
hacking, sniffling, summer cold-type wheezy rasp attacks.
that's a batch of crap, you can be certain.
summer colds are for A*-holes.
and i'm especially not vibing on the communicable A*-hole
who brought that doo-doo butter down on my daughters.
so not cool, sucka.
don't let me catch you on the street corner some night.
i'm just sayin'.
anyway,
there's semi-sickness sort of skulking,
an crack-a-lackin' coughs barking out.
where's all the hottness gone to?
i daresay i won't be lookin' on the thermometer, in any event.
not so rad, for the record.
***********
there's sure to be a full day of tedious tatzappin' in front of me.
how ELSE could i rock out to eleven,
on eleven seconds of sleep,
with sickish seeds awaiting my return,
and with big fun healing magic moments to plan for the night ahead?
c'mon.
i already know i've got some sh!t-salad to dress up later on.
my early-warning black-ops doo-doo sense is tingling, y'all.
that,
or my tired, addled, monomaniacally rock-fixated brain has had enough
of all of this.
not that it matters much;
if work is on the schedule.
then work is what i do.
but later on, i may take a fern-transplanting sortie off into the side streets
and washouts, culverts, and crags of the woodsly goodness.
natural plants, in natural environments.
now what do YOU minky city-blowers know about that?
exactly;
never quiet, never soft.....