A day of trains,
The freight train that is waking early,
The empty coal train that is fasting,
Taking the bike for a rails to trails ride,
The express of an afternoon nap, and
A screening of Cairo Station.
Each was on schedule,
Full of its particular clickety-clack rhythm,
Its whistle, and its relaxing sway.
This day was awesome
Arriving right on time,
Just when I needed it.
My friends are eating jelly beans,
I are everything else,
Good, bad, it didnt matter
Because i was not indifferent.
M&Ms, oatmeal, oatmeal cookies,
Cliff Bars, chicken, hot dogs,
Cinammon rolls, some pastry pie
Thing with ice cream,
And a smoothie:
And more oatmeal
All blended together…
I’ll burn it off tomorrow.
Which by the time my jelly bean
Eating friends see this
Will be today.
Be well everyone.
Today, tomorrow, whatever,
They all seem the same, anymore,
Infections, government corruption,
It’s getting so tough,
It’s even hard to find time to take a pee.
Somehow, though, this time is doing
Some sort of Jedi mind game on me.
I’m looking at a picture of
Spaghetti-Os formed into Jello
With the hole in the middle filled with
Vienna sausages thinking,
I bet I could eat that under the right conditions.
I doubt I could, but maybe,
If I was hungry enough
And the money was right,
And there wasn’t any fruit mixed into the jello
And all the jelly was scraped off the sausages.
The sausages would have to be room temperature, at least,
The jello super cold, with the famous jiggle and wiggle,
I’d want it cut like pound cake into wedges,
Not the normal cubes, but if someone brought a straw
I’d be out.
Unless it was one of those Slurpee straws with the spoon on the end,
Then I could dig in and take one good drag
Like I was hit a big cigar and wait for the nauseousness to hit.
Sitting at a big box guitar store after
Housing a mushroom omelette,
Two pancakes with home fries, and
Enough coffee to make
Hoover Dam operate at full capacity
As DMB plays over satellite radio
And all I can think about
Is running later
To relieve my gut of the burden of
Carrying the gross amount of food
I just ingested.
I’ll run lightly, like fluffy pancakes,
Probably burping or farting the Whole time,
But happy in the expressions of Wafting gasses that
Suggest scents from Columbia,
Tempered by the weight of guilt,
Understood to be just another meal,
Energy for the run, life’s run,
The one to be enjoyed.
So it started in a dingy gym
With the rim bent
And no schedule for the start
Of tournament games.
We played well,
Too many turnovers in the first,
But a nice rebound in the second
For a win.
I cruised back from the ailing gymnasium
To sample the ales in my hometown
That had been paired with cheeses
Under the sweet sounds of authors
Reading about the mysteries of life
To an ambivalent audience at best.
Unfortunately, one of the readers called out.
Previously my son implored me to be aggressive
And when I got there I cozied up to the owner
Who directed me to the organizers
Of the event.
They needed a body and as has been the case lately
I filled in without meeting any of the varsity authors.
Reading poetry from a phone is hard
Since the spacing goes a little crazy,
But the lines found a home and
People laughed just enough
To let me feel like I belonged on author’s circuit…
Well, at least in the KBC,
With its fine beer and tasty food.
Finally, at home,
Jim Nance and Nick Faldo offering commentary
As Justin Rose and Sergio Garcia offered entertainment
On the senior circuit at The Masters.
The shots flew, cutting through the excitement
Like a hot knife and butter, cream cheese, or nerves
To provide the end to a masterful day.