What a face
"Sells"
Abruptly she yells
Matte burning dry
Just try
Too moisten her lips
She's the Red devil
From hell why does her
orange face peel sell?
The right color
a psychic won't tell

Wishing well drenched
He touched my orange juice
"All Frenched"
She loves to slice and
he peels what appeal
orange saffron sauce
One last juicy squirt
divorce

It's time for fresh squeeze
Too frozen concentrate



The happy hour "Orange" feel
  no other place like fate
Ten times real
"One" face peel has been
love absorbed
Like lemon meringue
*******

Bitter grind soft butter glove
Do you mind orange flame
(The Spa) sells to be loved
Tra la so kind all Grunge
Going "Wawa" coffee cruel
Other colors haha
Movie set Orange payroll
lounge tease squirt

But destroyed by the evil
spell curse
Summoned on sunburst
But we need the Orange
before the sun comes

Like clones orange, you glad
we have "Green Apple"
phones
One step beyond orange
zones
I don't want to burst your
orange sauce
Grand Marnier starry twist
of orange
Two timing orange yogurt
Taste to tangy it hurt
Hey Yo Orange peel Spa
Still sticks Orange Julius
flirt

O outrageous P pick
What turns us on and gets us sick
Plan your work and work your plan
Never offend her
Let's see the chef make you love her
Creamified dreamlike Whip free
The orange mousse pie
Let me hear it yummy to lie

It’s not often I relish the sun,
But did so,
Come one almond eye’d glance –
And “awkward.”

It’s not often I gaze, the stranger,
But did so,
Come the little silk doll, snoring –
Curled upon her back.

It’s not often I hate, putrid,
But did so,
Come man, come companion –
And the trash she’d burrowed.

It’s not often I speak, I only write,
But did so,
Witnessed smug, and a
A smoke, cradled poignant, “husband.”

It’s not often I blush, nor often I fold,
But did so –
Come a mother and son,
Climbing mountains, cursed, and trash.

It’s not often I scamper, tail tucked leg,
But did so –
Come her freckled red ménage,
And the man who’d snapped his fingers.

It’s often, and ought I point a finger,
But to did so –
Never knowing love, never knowing angst,
And never knowing them.

An Awful Harvest

I went a hike up to Wawa in Montalban and up the mountain roads. Here I was to go past the peaks of Mt Parawagan, Susong Dalaga and Mt Lagyo plus others. The road had been improved by engineers with trucks and plant equipment. I wanted to hike a big circle right back to the beginning. This was possible a few months ago but not now due to the building of the Pamitinan Dam. It will take four years to do this and flood a complete valley near the peaks. A guard told me no entry by the construction site. I talked to a head engineer and he told me more details. The dam will be eighty metres tall or deep more than the Kaliwa Dam of sixty four metres. These are big structures. Hikers wanted to hike from Wawa to Casili by the newly improved mountain roads but the dam construction stopped this. In time a new road will be built above the dam level replacing the old road. Even if the road is built in a year the dam will still be unfinished so still no entry.



I saw a sign saying beware of UXO Unexploded Ordnance. A local man told me about this, of how the military was looking for it and would defuse any found. His details matched much of what I’ve heard before, like finding shrapnel in the soil. The sign was for the road improvement and dam construction. Sleeping shells waited to knocked awake and ****.



The digger, bulldozer and plant drivers need to be paid danger money. No joke. The area they work on is a small part of a huge World War 2 battlefield. An awful harvest litters the land with unexploded ordnance being buried in the soil having not detonated. Mortars, shells, bombs and other things; these all need locating and safely defusing by the military.



People live in the area and many have found live or exploded shells. The live shells are complete and the spent ones are in varied sized pieces. On my hike up there I was given a piece of one five five millimetre shell from a local. This was in two parts, the biggest weighed many pounds. I estimate between one in four and six fired never exploded. On the stone mountains like Mt Lagyo the shells and bombs will explode on impact if the detonators are triggered. In soil covered peaks the shells can just dig in and don’t go off. The army went up to Mt Lagyo looking for unexploded ordnance. They found nothing.



The road that has been improved and widened would’ve yielded many unexploded munitions. I’m curious how many were found and wonder how many thousands still hide unfound. Sections of the trees/grass by the road are taped off. This is for safety of any munitions and also due to the steepness of the terrain.



The local people within the valley are being moved away and compensated for thus upheaval. Their valley will be inundated by what is now a small river in coming years. Any remaining homes and unfound munitions or Japanese tunnels will be underwater.



Every time I hike the area from Wawa to Mt Mataba to Timberland to Casili I read about or am told or shown evidence from the war and battles; that old actions from 1945 has outlived the people of that time be it locals or soldiers. History is not old and boring black and white photos. An rusty Arisaka rifle with working bolt or blasted shell fragments tell more than any story or photo ever could. Only fate and God knows the unnamed soldiers names now.



When the dam is built I wonder how many unfound unexploded ordnance and dead Japanese soldiers will be now forever unfound? I suspect many thousand Japanese soldiers are buried on those peaks. Remember, these hills are the first high ground above Manila. This was the start of the high ground battles that went on for hundreds of miles at several huge mountain ranges. It was Tier 1 fighting equal to anywhere involving hundreds of thousands of opposing troops, of which tens of thousands were killed.



Now the 1945 legacy is coming back to bite us. Not just buried shells on a dam construction site but the risk of them still exploding when not even found. This is due to corroding fuses. Buried bombs in Europe have self detonated several times. I’ve been told of two large unexploded warplane dropped bombs, one near Timberland and the other near Mt Parawagan. Both need to be found again and professionally defused. History is never boring; the lethal harvest is a testimony to their dastardly deeds.

These are the songs I listen to while I cry and think about my beautiful sister and friend who I lost in July. What are your crying songs?

1. Consequence, The Notwist
2. Stuck on You, Lionel Richie
3. Hear You Me, Jimmy Eat World
4. Silence, Matisyahu
5. Drive, Ziggy Marley
6. Asleep, The Smiths
7. To Build a Home, The Cinematic Orchestra
8. Hallelujah, Jeff Buckley
9. Worry List, Blue October
10. Take a Little Time, Josh WaWa White
11. Ghost Towns, Radical Face
12. Kettering, The Antlers
13. Santa Monica Dream, Angus and Julia Stone
14. No One's Gonna Love You, Band of Horses
15. The Scientist, Coldplay
16. Fire and Rain, James Taylor
17. The District Sleeps Alone Tonight, Birdy
18. Yamaha, Delta Spirit
19. These Waters, Ben Howard
20. See You Soon, Coldplay
21. Unconditional Love, Tupac

He always asks me why.
"Why are you so sorry?"
Well, let me count the reasons on my fingers
even though I'd need more hands than just my own.
- I'm sorry that I care too much and not enough at the same time
- I'm sorry I say the wrong thing at the wrong time
- I'm sorry the moon hides when the sun comes, and the sun for the moon
- I'm sorry I keep talking about him, he's all I can think about
- I'm sorry I keep losing atoms
- I'm sorry I have worry thoughts that cloud my brain like smoke
- I'm sorry I like the smallest stars better than the bigger ones
- I'm sorry I can't write poetry
- I'm sorry I like stupid boy bands
- I'm sorry California is so far away
- and that I can't drive
- I'm sorry I like 90s TV shows and movies more than the ones they play now
- I'm sorry I don't have more hands (then maybe I could keep my head held high)
- I'm sorry I bolted at the mall when I saw them
- I'm sorry I never said goodbye to Popou, even though Jimmy kept telling me to, even though they said he wasn't going to die that night
- I'm sorry the chemicals in my brain don't work right (but I'm trying really hard to fix it)
- I'm sorry my anxiety rules my life, because that is not who I am
- and I'm sorry for saying sorry so much
- for being a hypocrite
- and spending too much of my time on Netflix
- I'm sorry chameleons never get a chance to be themselves
- I'm sorry it took me so long to get over him
- I'm sorry that I don't believe you
- I'm sorry that they don't have Wawa's on the west coast
- and I'm sorry Dobby died
  I'm sorry to you, too, for all of these reasons.

the cup of my palm
begs for the curve of your calves;
pulsing thigh muscles
striding confidently past
the years that separate us.

Three, three blind mice God once sent to me.

Wonderful angels that couldn't see all that I could see.

The third one I want her to see, to see that she's more special than she gives her self credit for, that she brings out the best in me.

& if she didn't believe it before this then I'll  just have to show her she's special going from A to Z.

She's completely Adorable like a baby the first time they taste a lemon thinking its a sweet fruit.

Excessively Beautiful, Sight dominating beauty that makes you wish there was never another sight you had to look to.

Her personality radiates a  gathering passion capable of making the coldest hearts turn Cupidity.

So daring in many ways, completely overly Dramatic at times but who isn't? One of the most dependable people I have there for me.  

Completely Essential, it wildly puzzles my mind how I managed to survive 20 years without her essence in life.

A mouth smarter than Sheridan at times, a attitude hotter than 99 degrees and 100% humidity, she's sure to make a Feisty wife.

She has a smile so attractive that's always Gleaming brighter than when you check your phone in the middle of the night and the brightness is on full blast.

Excessively Honest, almost to much sometimes, like when referring to my looks but nonetheless the type of honorable that makes relationships last.

I've never told her this but there's times when I glance at her & she looks nearly Identical Katrina Kaif, just more real & original, not some crafted photo.

She possesses a spirit that is perfectly Jovial. It's contagious & nurturing, my spirits seem to sink in a little every time she or I have to go.  

Foolishly Kindhearted, over willingly to give to the people she cares for and willing to forgive those she shouldn't.

Rarely a dull moment with her, she's so Ludic anytime I've tried to refrain from laughing at her I simply couldn't.

She's firmly Memorable, unforgettable like a first kiss, first car, or the first time you were asked to prom.

She's needed in our everyday nourishment, soulfully Nutritious, as much needed as a nap or a mom.

Contagiously Optimistic, her faith and positivity always rejuvenates me to make sure I keep that same faith she has in her life.

It is a gift to anyone to be able to look into her Prepossessing gaze, it's alluring like diamonds in her eyes.

Such a Quixotic woman, at least in my eyes. She herself might not agree but I think it would bring this out of the best of men.

Undeniably Royal, we must all bow to her, serve her hot chocolate & warm her blankets. I see no difference between her & the Monarchs they had back then.

Her hugs are Salubrious to the sick, healing & gifting strength and hope, a gift that has no price.

In life we can't trust many but she's undoubtedly well deserving of the label Trustworthy never will any relationship with her be rolling the dice.

Unique, but unique is an understatement. There are other Courtney's but there isn't another Courtney & if you knew her you catch my drift.

Any bleakness she experiences is like a Vociferousscreech to me and it becomes a priority to stop it, doing anything I can to help her mood shift.

An enjoyable kind of Weird, just different. I've had an off the wall friend in the past but she's gotta be 3x more enjoyable and outrageous as he was.

Personally, I hate her X, or anyone that has hurt her for that matter and I'll never forgive them even if she does.

Majestically Youthful, Courtney will mature through life but never age, in 60 years she'll still be running up and down WaWa aisles and I watch still disgusted from the comforts of my wheelchair.

The day she comes into anybody's life she makes that day their life's Zenith & I pray she's around for the rest of my years.

This little girl dropped her iPhone 6s Plus
outside of WaWa tonight.
No more than 12 years old.
The phone hit the ground
shattered,
but not as much as the little girls heart.
Falling to her knees, crying,
clutching her chest
like a wife learning her husband
died.
Her heart broke.

Her eyes filled up with water
like a bird bath
in a hurricane.

Screaming at the top of her lungs,
"WHYYY?!?!"

I could only hope for her sake
that's the only heart break
that she will ever feel.
Because dropping a phone
is nothing
compared
to a life
alone.

I want friends that'll love me unconditionally
Friends that i can sneak out with at 3am to run to wawa and get smoothies
Friends that'll cry with me then we get revenge on that ******* together (:
I need people who are fun and not afraid of the world and would give the ******* to anyone who spoke bad about us
I need friends who I can run to and trust with my entire life, ones that will help me smile when the rain is pouring in my brain and won't leave when things look like they won't get any better.

We lost you 10 days ago.

On the first day
I had just gotten my old job back
I walked into the main office
And told everyone how nice it was to see them again
Then I went back into my office
And heard you had passed
I flew home that night

On the second day
I tried to rest, recover the sleep I had missed  on the first
I couldn’t
My family wanted to go out to eat
I told them I couldn’t leave my room

On the third day
I got to see the friends we grew up with
Some I hadn’t seen in five years
We sat at a table for four
I kept looking to the open space to my right expecting to see you in a chair

On the fourth day
I bought a suit for your funeral
It had been so long that none i owned fit me
You would’ve thought I looked nice
You would have told me that

On the fifth day
I spent a night in your apartment
Surrounded by people that loved you
Some that loved me
I stood in your room and lingered
Our close friend saw me
We held each other and he showed me all the things in your room you had taken from him
I told him about an orange shirt you had taken from me because it was too large
We pulled out an orange shirt from a pile, thinking we had found it
It was a different shirt

On the sixth day
I got to see your face for the last time
I focused on your hands
because they looked how I remembered
I got to see you be put in the ground
I got to see my first love there
We hadn’t spoken in years
She told me she was married
I told her that was nice to hear
I spoke to your father, he had to be reminded of who I was
He hadn’t seen me since I was 8
But once he remembered
We spoke and we laughed
I spoke to your mother
I thanked her for moving to our town, I thanked her for you
I told her about all the good you brought to my life
She said I did the same for you

I cried that day and every day prior

On the seventh day I bought a flight back to Los Angeles for that night
I spent Mother’s Day with my family
I ate bad Greek food
We had to pull over next to a Wawa for me to use the restroom
I took the flight home
Normally I would have called a taxi but I asked my roommate to pick me up
You had introduced me to him
He used to sublet your room in our old apartment
I told him about the last seven days
I didn’t cry once

On the eighth day
I returned to work
Back for good I told them
I told my boss I ordered shakshuka for lunch because it was the last thing I ate with you
She said  she was considering the chopped salad

On the ninth day
Most of the same things happened
I spoke to the close friend who was still grieving in New York
I told him things would improve once he left the city
I saw my girlfriend who is recovering from a torn acl
She’s prescribed medication to help with her pain
I couldn’t stop asking her why I didn’t feel worse

On the Tenth day
I made a mistake at work
One that will likely never rear its ugly head
It’s the worse i’ve felt in 4 days
Sometimes I wish I could live in the pain I felt when I lost you
There nothing could hurt me
There nothing could be worse
You are gone and each day that passes you will be gone a little longer
And each day I will feel a little better
And I worry I may hate myself for that

This place is dead

Except for the cars that fill the seven eleven and WaWa parking lots late at night
They come in waves
But I come with them also
I like to think they come in waves instead of alone, leaving and coming
Waves that fill up the lots

Like the children that have come to fill my household
I am also one of them
And will be for a while I think

The good thing is that my home is not dead
The place is alive
Just as it would be on Christmas or Thanksgiving
As it is on any other day, holy or not
The place is alive, thriving
Its chest expands with each breath
And its diaphragm rises again with every exhalation
It can't be kept down
Not for long
Not while I am still on the back porch filling my lungs with smoke
Blackening as some things should be
Perhaps as those lots should be
Black with asphalt
But also white with the artificial lighting
The deceptive illumination giving a sense of day
Hiding from the night
The house will never be such a creature
The bodies glow enough with warmth and of things that are natural and alive
And the blackened lungs that rest with me in my body on this back porch are still a part of that
Despite the blackness

A magical place where the heart beats on strength
The Boardwalk guides souls together
My roots blossomed on those 127 miles of Garden State shores
Days spent at Seaside Heights, dancing to Bruce Springsteen

The Boardwalk guides souls together
Down on the shore I found myself
Days spent at Seaside Heights, dancing to Bruce Springsteen
Nights gathering at the 24/7 Diner

Down on the shore I found myself
A land where anything is possible
Nights gathering at the 24/7 Diner
Recollecting to cheese fries and plain pie

A land where anything is possible
Where we don’t pump our gas, we pump our fists
Recollecting to cheese fries and plain pie\
An ez pass saves 20 minutes on the turnpike

Where we don’t pump our gas, we pump our fists
A Wawa on every corner and no left turns
An ez pass saves 20 minutes on the turnpike
65 miles per hour means 80

A Wawa on every corner and no left turns
The East Coast, My home sweet home
65 miles per hour means 80
Us Jersey girls are fast paced, beautiful chaos

The East Coast, My home sweet home
A magical place where the heart beats on strength
Us Jersey girls are fast paced beautiful chaos
My roots blossomed on those 127 miles of Garden State shores

Na ga al'amari mai yawa
Daga ciki har da na yawa
Masu aikatawa ne wawa
Ba sa yin komai sai wawa
Da kudin masu cin dawa

been to Wawa
bought a drink
had to ask for a straw
the powers that be
passed a law
that requires plastic straws are
kept behind the counter

now

I m home
sitting in my easy chair
putting on my st. francis socks
shotgun across my lap

first, they took
our plastic bags
(the *******)
what's nexted?
seatbelts for pets???

the darkening  room
and  I'm staring
at the glow-in-the dark Jesus
fondling my
plastic straw

they will have to pry
this straw
From my
cold
dead hands

"live free or die"

isn't it crazy to think
that tomorrow could be the day i fall in love?
tomorrow could be the day
i make someone my everything,
perhaps a classmate i've never noticed or
a friend who,
up until tomorrow,
was nothing more.
perhaps the barista that takes my order with a wink
or the cashier at Wawa
that rings up my lonely pint of Ben&Jerry's.
isn't it crazy to think
that  everything could change in a few short minutes?
by thinking that it could all change tomorrow
might just help you
get through today.

Duk da cewa an tattara
Duk hujjoji a fili karara
lauyoyin  masu kara sun tara
Kishiyoyin su suna ta dara
Duk da sun saka jar dara
A baya sun yi ta bara
Na fada cewa ba a bara
A kotu in an fara
Amma sai da suka yi ta karara
Karshe dai sun yi fara'a

Rashawa da cin hanci sun yi yawa
Har a kotu mai sunan kubewa yayi yawa
Tabbatattun hujjojin ya bawa
Marasa nasara yayan wawa
An kai ruwa rana da yawa
Domin tabbatar da waye wawa
kuma hujjoji sun bayyana wawan
A karshe me sunan kubewa yayi yawa

Looking forward to things.
When I thought about aphrodisiacs
Rory and Logan.
Not being the same age as
people who said you're so young.
Feeling secure.
The drama of youth.
Pencil sharpeners.
Writing things down.
Wawa.
Pure physical exhaustion.
Amanda's sleepovers.
Dance dance revolution.
Chocolate chip pancakes
in the morning.
Running around barefoot
in the yard.
Everything not
a business.
Minding my own business.
Yellow cake with white icing.
Blowing out candles.
Surfing the net
to see
what there was.
Discovery in other people.
Conversation.
Risk.
Serendipity.
Process.
Foresight.
Focu­s.
Fallibility.
Being OK.
Not being Ok.
Caring if someone
was OK.
Sour ****.
Monkey bars
Running up and down
the soccer field.

Steely Dan sing queen (me)
outdid himself on sixtieth anniversary
after Grahame Wood
determined to meet
the evolving needs of the community
opened the first Wawa Food Market
in Folsom, PA, on April 16, 1964.

Today marked the sixth decade
since George Wood started
the Wawa dairy in 1902,
and it quickly became
a trusted name for fresh,
quality dairy.

As an unsung Patrons of said store,
I strove to achieve mitzvah
for an incapacitated wheelchair bound
resident here at Highland Manor Apartments.

The fickle finger (hut) of fate
unknowingly planned to liquidate
honest to dog sincere intentions
to deliver said drinkable goods
(you can bet your bottom dollar)
on his sterling promise
never foreseeing disastrous
misadventure out ranking
starry eyed bespectacled klutz
comprising the heart of this poem at any rate
(nitty gritty details omitted),
but essentially and summarily
spilled contents from three
twenty ounce cups of hotly perked coffee    
scalding himself in the process,
where epithets spewed
inadequately served at X-rate.

I asked him if he liked coffee
cuz today aforementioned vendor
acknowledged the brainchild
offering buzzfeeding caffeinated brew free
American chain of convenience stores
and gas stations originating
in the Philadelphia metropolitan area,
and now located along the East Coast
of the United States,
operating in Pennsylvania, New Jersey,
Delaware, Maryland, Virginia,
Washington, D.C., and Florida.

The remaining lines of this reasonable rhyme
garnered courtesy an endeavor
attempted quite some years ago
attempt bordering on the ridiculous to the sublime.

Even when iron not red hot,
I implement non customary quirks
regarding going for broke into survivor mode  
asia foreigner rather cold as ice
namely delinquent outsize credit card debt
mandates yours truly,
a cheesy survivor who rem: members
putting freeze on
Citizens Bank World MasterCard accounts,
whose helplessness to fork over

substantial dollar figure
analogous to one of three blind mice,
who ran after the farmer's wife
She cut off tails (OUCH!)
with a carving knife
must pay the price
methinks food in the slammer (ha)
will lack sugar and spice,
nevertheless macht schnell trice.

I exhaled deep sigh of relief
after speaking over the telephone,
whereby Arcadia Recovery Bureau
(i.e. collection agency)
based in Reading, Pennsylvania
explained yours truly owed $23.21
which considerably alleviated
immediate dire straits that figuratively
grabbed me by the nuts
hash tagged self scoundrel
a day late dollar short
dollars to donuts bonafide klutz

living ****** mint procreative
seminal squirt biological reproduction,
could never conceive to abort
despite countless occasions,
I blithely admit characteristics
linkedin with being a putz
going off rails as a one man train wreck
mine impossible mission to avoid
NOT running amok imagine
bull in a china shop
whereby the hypothetical proprietor
willing, ready able to tear out my guts.

Pigeon toed, I trip over me own little feet
size nine shoe small size for grown man
leaving utter disaster in his wake
synonymous when havoc strikes
chaos theory alive and well
ensues when I walk about
and dare take even one baby step.

Ever since adept with ability to crawl,
I ofttimes tumbled down the stairs,
but never did shed tears nor bawl
e'en when taking nosedive head first did fall
out the hatch of airplane

splattered, plastered, and matted
think suddenly feeling comfortably numb
joist another brick in wall
nevertheless acquiring stunt man role
paid big bucks

as **** sapien disguised as Sasquatch
(cause unkempt harried styled hair)
more times than I can remember
fell to Earth minus parachute,
which hoop fully explains

the incomprehensible drawl
earnestly and frankly harkening language
once extant within Gaul
which reverberated inside hall
of mountain (lionized) king.

Prior to any madcap misadventure
yours truly envisions his clumsiness
plays out within my third eye blind
hilarious scenario unfolds in slow motion
whereby accidental flick of wrist,
barely brushes up against
flimsy clothes rack

(the original motive begetting poem)
knee **** involuntary reaction,
kicking obstacle clear across Compton
generating comical feedback loop
impossible mission to stop
blockchain of fateful bitcoin events.

Living amidst (amongst) disarray
courtesy the missus, whose domestic habits
never merit housekeeping seal of approval
twenty four/seven pose
a hazard to mine existence.

I returned
a book at the library,
"Soul on Ice"

"it smells
like beer," Emily,
the librarian said, smiled.
so I asked her for a date

St. George Orthodox Church
was having a festival.
I took Emily

must have
drank a pint
or more of ouzo

i thought it was a Greek custom
and i began
smashing plates on the floor
but the Father said
the church uses the plates
for meals

and I said,
"I guess no one
will have to wash dishes."

so we left

"your too
drunk to drive
on the street," Emily warned.
so I drove over the curb onto
my neighbor's yard
circled his house
2 times

I saw him
looking out his window
and he didn't look surprised
at all
just shook his head
turned off the light

(the sound of sirens in the distance)

so we left

I had drank a 6 pack
on the way to the library
shoved the empty cans
under the seat
I went to put on the brakes
and
a can rolled out
under the brake
and I could
not stop
Emily,  SCREAMED
I went through a red light but
we made to her house
anyway

(7 year old Igor
Emily's son
bit a chunk
out of my eyebrow,
her pit bull bit in my ***)

bought a scratch off at WaWa
won 300 dollars
we went to the horse races

i told Emily to pick a horse
any horse
and i'd put all 300 dollars on it
she picked a 40 to one shot

PERFECT INSANITY

i was feeling lucky...
and...

in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
recorded July sixth nineteen sixty
upon birth of she who doggedly
pursued me to the ends of the earth
and what not take no as an answer.

Unbeknownst to yours truly
a baby girl got born
sixty three years from aforementioned date;
she automatically triggered
excited buzzfeeding murmurs
heard amidst the madding crowd
patiently awaiting to secure their eats
at none other than Horn & Hardart
offering their house special,
albeit free of charge;

the grandfather of present day
food service industry company Grubhub
acknowledged storied birth
with roster of special guests such as:
Connie Francis, Eddie Cochran
(the latter came all the way over
from the United Kingdom),
and even then president
Dwight David Eisenhower
made guest appearance.

Meanwhile, about sixty plus miles away
a little boy, (who lived
in Levittown, Pennsylvania)
experienced a fleeting warm gentle caress
identical to soft summer breeze
linkedin to sugar and spice
and everything nice;
he smiled and unknowingly blushed
unaware his destined lifemate
secured courtesy good housekeeping

seal of approval,
which may seem
like an otter outrageous claim,
but mark my words approximately
thirty orbitz around the sun later
would witness his heartthrob
(currently snoozing away on the bed)
pledging to accept first one contra dance
after another until... death due him part.

I ofttimes sat alone
on the concrete steps
at Summit Presbyterian Church
6757 Greene Street, Philadelphia, PA 19119
perusing contents of reading material
unable to focus on the words,
cuz excitement prevailed
to exalt in an evening of pure ecstasy.

The third Thursday each month
at eight o'clock post meridiem
held special significance
at above named facility,
which constituted kibitizing,
fraternizing, but especially flirting
while contra dancing
usually with no ulterior motive.

Our fate got sealed upon occasion,
when I willingly shared Neptune Salad
(a discontinued product sold at Wawa)
with lass who stood
all of four feet and eleven inches
and sported trademark long thick hair,
whose locks (I dreadfully report
long since got lopped off),
then rivalled those of Rapunzel.

As an introverted generic
long haired pencil necked geeky lad
always awkward in the company of people
(even making small talk),
an eventual comfort to converse arose
with longitudinally challenged referenced gal,
whose buzzfeeding dialogue
indeed jump/kick started
us to exchange tidbits about ourselves,
such as address, age, birthday...
and other general information,
hence bringing to my awareness
regarding special occasion
she made debut appearance
within webbed, wide world.

Said lass subsequently
became dance partner for life
after she found herself with child
we became husband and wife.

An innocent miss steak kin...
once former main lion den cha hoard servant,
resident iz cow herd vegetarian boar
hoof faux whatever reason iz explore

ring bing foo fighting beastie boy, who doth
newt practice, what he preaches your
truly battens down chicken
coop hatches so... call me galore
re: us hypocritic,
this honest to dog omnivore – more

accurate said buzzfeeding primate -
**** sapiens, he whelk hams
adieu after quick bonjour
hears ear splitting eeyore
deaf finning chore
tills unable to ignore

admits transgression,
now wonder wherefore
whether art thou still
game to reed my adore
hub bull poetry
understandable if ye deplore

such atrocious, egregious, opprobrious...,
violating ethical core
**** regarding straying
against dietary herbivore
rudimentary eel lamb ants
(chocolate covered my dear Watson)

boot fault in the starfish...por
favor mice elf can
oxe plain twittering like plover
with reasonable rhyme for sure
don't get doggy dimples in bunch
cause to skewer me but... but before...

sending killing squad to slaughter -
this puppy, aye kindly honour
my wish and don
me noggin with pompadour
as fetching drag queen
torpedo sized *****

squirting parti-color
milk as self defense mechanism
averting casus belli thus
amidst melee I abhor
find self on horns of dilemma
life story of this poor

cooked goose flambé
caught between rock and trapdoor
special cannibal delight
where madding crowd
chants "send him back"
accursed unconscionable roar

ring anger, but lurch for eats,
an impulsive reflex courtesy extempore
rain nee yes unforgivable poor
craven impulse to up peas hunger
uncontrollably craving regarding carnivore

pang additionally not further injure
ring innocent animal plus more
to this fishy tail than
meats the Wawa birdseye.

sawa gawa
tino sabi
its what you maybe
kimo say be
No not apricot
these wordss
if you're Endicott
that guy that guy
was knew once
for us ford us
im not insectual
wawa while
some guitar