friday i'm in like.

love is in the air.
however,
i'm not sniffin' it, neighbors.
in fact,
i'm barely breathing in for fear of catching it.
that's right, duders.
i'm only in like today.
one step below, but a world apart.
i'm taking it back.
no thumbs up necessary, A*holes.
there will be shotshells,
there will be ciabatta,
there will even be fresh herbs planted,
there will probably be some hammocking, too....
but only as distractions from the grind.
i don't love it, i just like it.
and it has nothing to doo-doo with social media.
why am i like that?
warriors of woodsly reality don't fib, kids.
and truth tellers can never stop.
i woke up deeply in like with life.
maybe it was the imperfect temperatures
my R.E.M. dreamstate incubated in,
maybe it was the tumoresque mosquito bite on my back,
who knows?
not me.
i just know that although i awoke on my side of the bed.
fittingly the left side, not the right,
but still correct and not the wrong one,
there's a pervasive sense of likeness oozing out.
could it be the haircut?
sure.
all i'm saying is:
robert smith would NOT approve.
that, and, fire in cairo is a song i can't even like,
let alone love,
even on a friday.
fact.
*
i've got nail polish where it doesn't belong,
which is to say: not on my nails.
don't fret, friends,
i've got sloppy glops of it where it goes, too.
a loud, fresh, hard mess, my ninjas.
that's the style i'm reppin' today.
and a local paper is coming to photograph us,
for whatever weird reason i'm not privy to.
photgraphic proof that bigfoot is alive and well,
and tatzapping away at white mountain tattoo?
possible.
i'm sure my coincidentally well-timed manicured
nails and hair and beard will all go swimmingly with
the smudges of maroon and silver on my hands and feet.
ugly ducklings don't get sexier until they're dead.
y'know how it works.
only the dead ones, duders.
in the meantime,
there's all of this;
never quiet, never soft.....