Cupboards filling up with stuff we can’t touch like industrial sacks of dry roasted peanuts and biscuits for cheese, specifically. Seems this season of excess begins with an interminable exercise in restraint, where even one mince pie is missed.
The alarm got us up before the sun fully awoke we pulled our sleepy bodies out of bed got on our grungies not even fixing coffee yet, got our gear together in the pickup and headed for the peninsula where we hoped the sand bass would be schooling, searching for some breakfast of worms or flashy things that looked to them like food. If we were lucky we hooked a few which we would cook later or save for the freezers back home.
When we got back to the campground we’d comb our hair brush our teeth and head into town for Pat’s Cafe who served the best biscuits, eggs, hashbrowns, and pancakes in the region and if we were lucky Pat herself with her long black hair and **** lips and substantial hips would stop by and in her Texas twang and charm she’d tell us about their farm we’d speak of our wives and some of the small details of our lives and how we loved that large beautiful body that sparkled and sang to us each spring and how we savored dipping into Lake Whitney.
In late afternoon we would laze about the RV discussing Theilhard and Jesus and Charlie he’d speak of Bob Wills and we’d share trying to make sense of the spirits there and how they made us leap and soar. We spoke in sync and explored lines of novels, and fascinating texts that made us eager to discover what was next that would make us laugh or shed tears of all those memorable years we’d been brothers afloat of the same waters becoming men who hoped to make their mark spark something good in the minds of other seekers who also drank wines fermented in corridors of learning who had the same yearning for knowledge and truth embedded early and deeply in our youth.
Biscuits It will take time to adjust to this new reality There will be good days and bad days on the way Along with other pre-discerned times unmentionable Where life will be Mad Max esque and totally lawless What will I do at such times and what will life do to me? Tea and biscuits with pals or robbing banks with sawn offs? Or both...
It’s so comfortable inside my bed. I think I will stay here until I am dead. I’m never going to move again.
The air is cold, my quilt so warm, My feet are nice and toasty. I have a day off, so I will remain lost, In a world of imaginary.
I drift off to sleep until quarter to three. They say that’s a whole day you have wasted! All I reply is, I have had a bad day since I was a kid, So a lie-in once in a while is just what I needed.
But now my stomach is starting to grumble. Three meals a day is a must. So I throw on some clothes and drag myself to where I need to go. Boring, boring, boring toast! But, oh well, it is something at least. They tell me I have to eat.
It’s been twenty minutes and I am still not finished, With this rubbery, so dry! Food, With absolutely zero taste at all... Have a guess what I am…Bored!
My cup of tea is just (stupid!) flavoured water. My biscuits are broken in barrel and cup. I should stop eating this toast, I know I oughta, But it’s nearly done now And once it is done, it is done.
Now April dogs our sunny minutes, pale Blue skies with nary cloud to mar that sense As orange 'non splashes buildings in defense Of rosy sunset just where dinner's bail, The biscuits cut ere that eye cease t'avail, And curtains drawn while steamy soup fr'intents Give us cause to reflect, black night what'd fence Dessert as we talk oer the future's tale. I roll the first words 'cross my tongue as't stir 'Fore butter gives flour cause to be anew Sheer dough, that haunting sense light rouses fer Auld memries of lost days what winks unto My soul, though's but March first. Is it sae poor To feel it in our bones likeas twould woo?
This is cheerier than what I've been inking lately, plagued with blue thanks to the sunny suggestion of April, sewing restoring me to the memories I'd been avoiding--Mum gone and me a stranger in this world sans a home. Haha, laugh at me.
who are you? please tell me for i'd love to know i'll invite you in for tea and biscuits, you can tell me everything please tell me who you are i'd really love to know for otherwise you're nothing more than just a stranger to me.
-i want to know who the person living in my skin is