Tag: Time

Bully for Them

The very first horse-drawn carriage must have come as a shock to the ants taking their time crossing the land that at one point had never been designated specifically for human travel–and subsequent travails.

Now the unattached heel of a wayward boot has come across my plane of vision, and all of a sudden, horse-drawn carriages and ant opinions have no bearing over my perception as a red-blooded artist keen on taking over the world several well-placed poems at a time.

A long-suffering server has come to understand–a solid number of years ago, mind you–that people have no rhyme or reason when it comes to leaving their shit behind at a bar (even if they haven’t imbibed enough to lose their conception of personal property and the detriment of ignoring the objects directly surrounding them). Perhaps that very basic principle just isn’t present in their conscious minds in the same way as the long-suffering server–we’ll call him Frank.

Perhaps, just perhaps, they’ve transcended the idea of personal property entirely, to the point where everything is everything and nothing, and a backpack or purse or boot heel are inconsequential in the grand scheme of their lives. And bully for them.

Spätburgunder

Speckled timberjacks innovate in the leanest and meanest of times, over all the whinging and cringing, crybabies taking turns beating their chests as though abalone were as valuable as diamonds (although, in our faery-less global community, that sentiment should be closer to truth than it currently stands).

Sentiment breaks backs as a matter of fact. You could say that the finer the rampage, the cheaper the glint recommended by the turnstile technician–at least that’s what I’ve come to understand as a giblethead in society’s white pages.

Although, the sorrow contained within a single spätburgunder can hardly be measured with a doughnut and Jeopardy rerun (even a Ken Jennings episode where he wins $75K, sorry to say).