Did I ever ride one of these casino busses?
That's how I met my wife.
Is this weird enough?
seven measured spans of ten plus some,
this bit, this collection of second chances,
in how many?
in ever,
how many spans of tens have passed, without me?
or,
without the star stuff Sagan says
I am made of?
or I am made? I was.
That's the measure of my worth,
nay, I say.
Rue the day I told that lie
shall be my epitath, should I leave without
a-counting
them there ex
acted, mockinbird killin' days and ways we was
when we was
never governed, as a people, or a tribe.
as ids,
we was wild injuns, us kids was. we did as we pleased.
life was fine,
livin' by the river, you can imagine a cloud
occlusion of green greasewood smoke
softening a barely waking moon
four thumbs high at sundown
keeping fairy tales down low enough
that grandpas
can snag
-- and release and come back jack, right here
--to this dangling hook
and it's always gonna be this way
catch and release,
life's story your story goes on.
You never lose your place,
that's mortally impossible
to pose a
quandry
quandary (n.)"state of perplexity," 1570s, of unknown origin, perhaps a quasi-Latinism based on Latin quando"when? at what time?; at the time that, inasmuch," pronominal adverb of time, related to qui"who" (from PIE root *kwo-, stem of relative and interrogative pronouns). Originally accented on the second syllable.
pronomial adverb, eh?
Writers were warned away from adverbs,
back when grammar tyranny strained
at knots and gnostic gnats magi-ifical
add-on augmented at your own risc
made you notice
tech times change faster than Timex
Sinclair-- sorry, senility function was left on from earlier missions
Force-recon recollected war stories being moved permanently into fish story status before
legend adds a layer
of gloryshit
at funerals.
Reduced Instruction Set Chip, chip
chipping is
addiction diction
A.I. *** us a whole Yah bus win, it's
Free Play day at the Ol' Folk Home.
We sing old songs on the way to Viejas and
laugh about all we left in Vegas.
Thanks, dear reader, my sanity hinges on you, like the swing doors on the Longbranch