My Music: Give me a song with a beat, make my feet move to a groove I can dance to; take a chance to find romance too, if I’ve a mind to. Melody matters; lyrics flatter, I can’t carry a tune for shit, but if it’s a hit I can fake it as long as you can take it. Give me a song with a beat.
My Teams, are nightmares, dressed as dreams, conforming to sports passion with the team’s current fashion. Anything for a buck, and it’s just my luck – we’re always in contention for dishonorable mention. I swallow my pride, don my paper bag and hide. Give out a cheer, “As long as there’s next year!”
My Meter Is Running. This muse of mine works just fine. But I laugh and I scoff because I can’t turn it off. I can fill any form and make my words swarm but, a terse verse keeps repeating on me. It can only get worse, as long as I’m hooked on poetry.
Coffee. Make it dark and not too thick. I want it to warm me, not to stick to my ribs. No cream. No sweetener. No mocha-choca-frappa-latte- f-in’-chino, Know what I mean? Oh, and make it hot. Very hot! Do not hold it between your knees please, hot! I’ll take it as hot as I can get it. Got it? Start my day the right way. A steaming cup of joe, and make it to go!
For obvious reasons, it was called “The Comet” since riding on her would cause you to vomit. A high-rolling streak of yellow and green would make you take notice when it was seen. A wooden behemoth, one of the last of her kind, this old roller coaster was my very “first time”. On the Lake Erie shoreline of Crystal Beach Park in Ontario, Canada. I rode on a lark. A field trip from school had provided the occasion that brought our young group to this Canadian station. I eyed her from a distance, she held no allure, she beckoned me softly, that son-of-a-cur. But I just wasn’t biting, I don’t roller coast, if I even got on her, I’d surely be toast. I had that thing beat I was filled with elation, I was proudly avoiding a bad situation.
Enter the girl. Her name was Terry. She didn’t think coasters were the least bit scary. She glanced to the top of this treacherous slide then looking my way she asked, “Go for a ride?” My plan had been thwarted, I started to panic, I’d have much better luck going down on Titanic. But, machismo kicked in and it said without shrinking “Sure”, as my brain screamed “What the HELL are you thinking?” So we stood in the line for the cars to come ’round, (or we stood in the queue, if you’re true to the “Crown”) And often she’d smile every time she would glance while I stood there quietly crapping my pants. We boarded the car, strapped the belt, crashed the bar, as the pulley grabbed hold of the very first car. Clack, Clack, Clack, Clack, the Comet did rattle, we were just half way up, this was purely a battle. Chuck, Chuck, Chuck, Chuck, she came to a stop, Perched ever proudly at the very tip-top.
And then it happened. The pulley released. (This was the part that I liked in the least.) With her arms in the air, Terry gave out a scream, which was just louder than mine (if you know what I mean). It looped and it turned as it made a few passes. And at the top of the next drop, I lost my glasses. My mother would kill me, and besides, I can’t see. And she was having the best time there could be. I almost lost lunch as I tightened the strap, and by some crazy miracle, the specs dropped in my lap. The ride came to an end and Screaming Terry turned meek, and she leaned up and planted a kiss on my cheek. But just as it seemed I had made a new friend, she said, “That was fun, let’s go do it again”.
The day that spring appears we’ll cheer and revel in celebration. The days pass, slow not fast, each in question. Any mention of freezing leaves me cold. These are the waitings we are partaking. There’s no mistaking, spring is taking it’s sweet old time!
They had dinner on TV trays. They have been doing that for days. It sort of plays with their order but they didn’t care. It just felt right. Every night, place settings for two on separate platforms flying in the face of familial norms and old habits. Their kitchen table had become a fable of decorum; they had one. But, it had become their biggest shelf upon which fragments of their lives rested. Who’d have guessed it would be so? The Wormwoods come to Buffalo!
Every year is a fork in the road. You swear you don’t feel old, but your feet are tread worn and you’d have sworn you had more gas in the tank. You have gravity to thank, or Karma, or “Big Pharma” for getting you this far. Were you a car they’d have traded you in for a sleek, and speedy thing, but it would be a greedy thing to make material things your sole desire. There’s still a fire in the hearth and nowhere on earth you’d rather be than the road you’re currently on. Your GPS is gone and your drive is just staying alive and avoiding any more detours along your journey. And you yearn for just one more mile to make you smile (and go in style) while on the way!
I always found words fascinating. Whether debating the designated hitter or tossing bitter barbs at rubes who choose to question my side. I take pride in the aplomb I’ve amassed, for I have surpassed the vocabulary I once thought scary in the day. I must say it has grown. It has shown me new ways of expressing what I’ve been guessing had been on my mind. I find my thesaurus a great tool, and I never fool with my dictionary. It feeds my vocabulary. I have one, only bigger!
It’s crazy, man! All the cats and chicks love the licks of my bad guitar! These sick riffs are slick when played to the max! The facts bear me out. I swing my axe with clout, the kids kick up and dance every chance they get. They love my groove, They’re like hip, we’re like cool. It’s like wild, man!