Cold, Or Maybe Hot.

Sometimes it's Wednesday again.

Crabs don't keep pets.

Dogs don't wear knickers.

Colleges don't sell trucks.

I don't smell good.

Sometimes I'm not, well, well.

I caught a cold today. First time ever. Used the kid next door for bait.

Mondays are good nap times.

It's Monday again. Mondays are quite pleasant when you're not working. I'm not working. I have a cold. When it's all over I still won't be working, so it's about a wash in that direction. Time for lunch and then a nap. After that I'll ask the cat what to do next. Sometimes I get an answer, but understanding is the real issue. The effort makes me tired again, so I often follow up my nap with another nap. Every now and then things seem to be complicated, but if so I have another nap, and then a nice snack stolen from the catfood cupboard. That puts things into perspective, at least for me. You may prefer fish food. Who can say? Nap on it.

Tactical conversation, a play in eight lines, in case I counted right this time.

March frosts.

Tiny watts.

Fresh bots.

Slimy knots.

Harvard thoughts.

Hamburger ramifications.

Tofu fortifications.

Pickle tuners, rejoice, etc!

Lonesome Cowboy

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, roaming empty streets, keeping one eye open for chewing gum wrappers.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, untethered and yet available for lunch dates Tue-Thur during windy weeks in March if my pants are freshly pressed. (Or sometimes August).

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, at home on the streets, sleeping in alleys, alone among stray cats and unwashed rats under darkened skies empty of hope. (Could be why I fart so much.) (Or the other way around.)

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, bereft of horse or saddle, or six-shooter. Only my boots are left, and a battered hat, while I wait for inspiration or a stray $10 bill, whatever you can provide.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, still searching for that silver lining among wind-shredded clouds, between torrents of blowing rain and night-shivers. Searching, searching and waiting, here, all night, with just my small teddy bear, the only friend I've ever had, left.