the f u dance

diego

floating
this bright yellow balloon
above the ridge that runs along
the serene pacific
no weather nor wind to hassle it
no cloying or clawing need
just medium sized middle of the road

some need that security
the fault lines of their lives
bringing too much upheaval
and no gold in the ore
a comfortable chair
by the setting sun
and sixtyfive degrees
of swaddling its ok
to hold the tired hands
there there now

i get anxious in that security

where is the promise of
the possibility of
impending doom
where is the need for
hand to iron or back to board
the prayers threateningly whispered
to an careless god
or the crack of the random

a lazy yawn fills my mind
seeping in all smiling suntanned
as i leisurely lapse into the lull
that is la jolla


sorry
fourtwentytwotwelve

hat and ascot


a famous tom once explained
that there was a time
when a man did not leave the house
without a hat and tie
and he lamented the lack
of dandiness
and our casual approach
epitomized
in casual wear

ok
i get it

i may not be
a clothes horse template
for what the well dressed man is
wearing this season
but cripes
i am a big fan
of at least taking a shower

the dood in front of me
on the plane is
reeking havoc
as if stinking was sexy
or stench proved smart

damn
its gonna be a long flight


sorry
fourtwentyseven