post-op.

operation: werewolf, that is.
yesterday was the peak.
the pinnacle of perilous transformative hottness.
but the full moon edginess,
and crotchety crankiness of a burgeoning bulb
in the high and mighty sky, is underway as we speak.
double portraits were on the menu, today.
no consult.
no advance perusal or picking of pictures,
just a viking blitzkrieg berserker art-attack.
welcome back to work-
now get to work.
that's a hard style,
especially considering the hazards faced
just by getting out of my car today:
even my clearly lycanthropic hide
can't hide my skin from the deadly predation
of a six-legged legion of bloodsuckers.
there are bugs so thick,
you'd think a pack of vampires
just leeched your fluids out of your face.
or a pack of flying leeches, even.
or a swarming storm of liquid-lapping,
flesh-chewing, eye-sticking A*-holes.
i must look like a spastic when i'm outside, kids.
seriously,
i am flapping, and smacking, and swatting,
and twisting, and shaking, and shooing,
and swearing,
all after just a second or two out of doors.
mad hatter-type jauns, neighbors.
i GOT they.
***********
the garden is watered,
and i'm about two pints low.
there're welts on my wrists,
and bite marks on my whole body.
the plague of insects is begun, my ninjas.
there's not enough citronella in the woodsly goodness
to sway these gnashing gnats and
mecky mosquitoes away from our faces.
it's like an anxiety attack given substance,
and with the strong desire to do bodily harm
to both my dermis and my sanity.
buzzing off does it again;
never quiet, never soft.....