sunday, sunny sunday.

ninety degrees of right angled hot hot heat.
yeah.
90.
of degrees.
outside.
where did that come from?
i didn't even realize it was a blistering doo-doo butter explosion
for almost the whole day.
why?
because i was tattooing concentric circles all flippin' day.
yep.
that's a double dose, neighbors.
circles inside circles.
that's the cost of living in the woods, i suppose;
the less-fun ideas of less-awesome getters.
tatblasting away on pain-in-the-A*-holes?
we got that.
in a few weeks,
i'll be thrilled to have those same turdsmashers spending loot.
but not today.
***********
stina and james and rowan.
y'know 'em?
we ate some tasty treats after work with those kids,
and despite the heroically awful service at the restaurant,
the company was great.
they do tattoos.
they think like tattooers.
so,
we don't really do anything the same way.
but still,
vegan, drug-free tattooed non-A*-holes should stick together.
or at least hang out once a year.
their little man, rowan,
is pretty flippin' adorable.
and y'all know i don't hang out with little legit diaper babies if i can help it.
that kid gets a free pass.
late night parking lot hangin',
with filled-up bellyholes,
and months worth of stories to swap.
that's a good night.
plus,
after a superheated day of brutal swelter,
the relative cool and calm of the dark dark dark nighttime
is what we all needed.
small doses, duders.
or at least short visits.
warrior poetry is best appreciated in concentrated bursts
of burly barbarian spitfire camaraderie;
never quiet, never soft.....