Here it is,
A video of a chap fell running,
He’s caught in sideways rain,
The wind tearing at his gear
With the same sound as that on Everest.
It’s daylight, but he’s heading into the night,
And all I can hear
Is one of my neighbors,
Using baby talk to talk to her baby
So that everyone this side of Scotland
Can hear her little effing voice
Booming babble that no one really can stand.
I was close to going Oakley on his last visit to MSG,
But had the dignity of Walt and the savoir faire of Keith
To reign in my Virginia amigo’s assertive language,
Realizing the smarter play for this Mr. Gray was
To get back to the peace of ultramarathoning.

(Shut the sliding door.)

Hot junction boxes
Plumbing leading to the sump
Some home improvements
Plants need that constant light source
Bongwater must go somewhere

 

***Evidently my old neighbor was something other than a chef… It’s good he’s gone.