saturdays go by.

another 'nother late night,
when it seems like the whole day has just begun.
hard styles, hard times, and hard livin'.
when it rains, it pours,
but when the sun shines,
we swelter.
even within the sheltered safety of the tattbomb shelter.
i'm sayin',
it's neither heat nor humidity in the atmosphere...
it's the emanating aura of armpits
that oozes off of the 98 degree doo-doo duders
in the chair.
hatebomb heatlamps of humanity, neighbors,
alive and in person, right here.
i'm not sayin' i don't like it,
i'm just tryin' hard to imply it.
aww, sh!t, i think i just tipped the hat.
alas,
it's been a brutal batch of businesstimes
here in the vacation epicenter crater.
that's a knappy nadir of nullified freshness, my ninjas.
stale,
like crackers left unwrapped.
and the cracker-A* crackers are all almost totally unclad.
no shirt, no shoes, no worries,
the tatzap attack needs not these items,
just a wallet filled up with movie checks.
i am on it, friends-
stickin' all these ninjas for their papers.
...SON!!!
***********
so,
how are we occupying the minutes between jobtime?
well,
what do you know about 550 cord?
yeah.
we've got enough to macrame mount washington,
and we're not afraid to use it, either.
we're overhand knotting,
cobra and king cobra lacing,
and lanyard knot tightening.
bracelets, pull-tabs, key fobs,
you name it,
we braid it.
hard.
*
time is running out, kids.
in just a little teensy tiny baby bit,
we'll be all by our lonely lonesome.
again.
but,
until then,
for the next few days, at least,
it's on like tron,
without the neon.
believe it;
never quiet, never soft.....