eve's eve reprieve.

connecticut, u.s.a.
awwwwwwww, man.
congested and infested and molested.
a sh!t-salad stankin' skank-filled steaming smog bowl.
that's what's up, and where we're at.
a train wreck in full effect,
overlapping and pumpkin-slapping the front and sides
of my whole entire travel plans.
yuuuuup.
neighbors,
every year i come back,
and every year i recognize less and less of where i'm from.
it's not the land of the Hamden Warriors anymore,
it's a war-torn wasteland of waterbabies and b!tchbags.
and yet here i am...
***********
duders,
it's the day before the day of the night before XI-mas.
the eve of the eve.
what does this solid-waste state of the union have to offer?
how about hours and hours of sour traffic?
oh hell yes.
heinously long distances spanned
across this third-smallest state?
naturally.
terrible air, horrible people, and awful areas?
with a few exceptions, and we're visiting all of them;
spread out along the breadth and width of this place.
yep.
it's all really happening.
ready or not-
here we come.
*
and do i miss the foot?
...a little.
saint elevenus may be the
chimney sweepin' chief of the holy smokin'
festy festive holiday season.
i'm makin' offerings,
lighting candles,
and swearing mighty solemn oaths
of worthy warrior really-realness.
y'know,
trying to invoke the stormswept ghosts
of all this raging ragnarok-rockin' righteousness.
that's a thing.
prepare all your jingle-jangled
mistletoe kissing balls, y'all.
you can practice suckin' on them,
then move on to the real ones;
never quiet, never soft.....