absolutely no description:
come on.
neighbors, that's what's up.
sometimes,
even when it's sunny and seventy degrees
and in most other ways an atmospheric disappointment,
catering to motorcycle enthusiasts and outdoorsmen,
there's an uncontested contestant competing against himself
for an interest-sparking shot at
one of my fabulous prize packages.
yuuuuuuuuup.
like high-energy high-decibel verbal abuse,
warm caffeine-free diet soda-pop,
and a slice of vegan futuristic mocha pie.
and then,
instead of another 'nother generic turdblaster tattoo,
i get to activate a little bit of my reserve nutrients.
that's how and why expert realness gets poppin'.
exceptions rule.
that's a thing.
***********
right this very minute,
it's all really happening.
it's the present tense.
c'mon.
present.
tense.
both present and accounted for, y'heard?
yeah.
there's a palpable anxiety in the rarefied air up here.
a combination of leather, barbecue, and exhaust fumes
is blowing on the wind.
if that's the answer, y'all.,
i'm done asking questions.
i've got just three more long, lonely, terrible days
of celebrating (read as: enduring) the suckiness
of two-wheeled motorized weak-sauce,
and then i get to go down to connecticut.
the home base of nancypantsery an' that.
awwwwwwwwwwwwww, man!
frying pans, fire, whatever, my ninjas.
from bad to worse and back again,
that's the recipe for road warrior poetry.
the toll roads are the least of the price i'm paying.
however,
family togetherness means making the best of
the moves being made-
i've got peoples who need me,
and i go where i'm needed.
anything less would be less than worthy
of the heroic virtues and values i'm all about.
*
oh,
and by the way duders,
it's flag day.
whatever that is, we doo-doo it.
now hoist that sh!t,
and let your freak flag fly.
long may it wave, mutha-'uckers;
never quiet, never soft.....
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