Sitting in a North Carolinan Sun

Sitting in a lawn beautifully deserted with green around like spring ought, my mind is taken back to the city for a moment, and don’t miss it. I miss this. I miss the chance to be out in the woods, out where the gricklegrass grows. Memorize this horizon that bends around this corner and that, trees block the view of the sun, keep me cool, canopy grows fat on the summer wind already blowing in, from across the states. I ponder and wonder what tomorrow brings and have little fear of today. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, there will yet be so many, that I have hundreds of things to do today. I should not fear the night that carries me there to my want of tomorrows.

In my chair I feel the manufacturers grip around my throat, the throat of this land. In my lap remains the top, sitting, methodical, ever lonely for my company, hoping only to be utilized, it is the new best friend the dog cannot compete with, for it needs at us every hour of every day, we work at it, and it works for us, we play with it and it plays back. Only it is a lonely invention, like a dog, but a dog can understand when it is not his time to play.

Sucked in through the fiberoptic cable my future is dimly lit and high speed, it will be broadcast to the millions of my friends, family, followers and ancestors, it will be brought to them in high definition and my every move must be as clandestinely intentional as the next. Wordplay may (or may not) help me today. Write a cover letter, cover letter, duck and cover letter, if you’ve a knight in your party have him use cover letter.

Father asks “what you up to?”
“Writing” I reply and smile on by going about my work not even looking at what it is I’m doing

hopping in the car I’m in the back seat, in the backseat back burner
I’ve gotta go to Raliegh, no I’m on a bus now, no I’m not, I’m on a plain train or automobile, gotta get mobile, not too moible these days, locomotive on my bicycle gotta find the art to recycle recycle it’s use eveyday. too many feelers too many creepers, heebie jeebies about my future. “She’s on a phone” mom says “she’s not watching” not watching anything but circles and colors and pictures our own devices dazzle us with everyday by the daily. Nothing feels better than the wind in your hair driving in a convertible, I’m not in one I’m just saying I wish I was there cruising away from here. Am I happy in the city hell no, do I like the city hell no, well know that I do a bit, smirk it out a bit jerk it out a bit like you do, windows closed without my consent we’ve air conditioning here, we’ve air conditioning there we’ve got air conditioning everywhere! “Your Portsmouth condo awaits”
couldn’t think of anything else to follow that up with except an ending well I’m ending, sadly and slowly I’m digging your brain waves by the spoonful a loving spoonful and if that spoonful doesn’t spoon momma’s gonna buy you a crazy loon that will haunt your bed at night and tear your dreams apart and nothings got you bat shit crazy like that crazy loon watching looney tunes playing itunes singing a bucket she carries a bad tune in turn on and drop out gotta tune up with this tuna gotta turn around this car, gotta go back home and start a family maybe five or six million or more generations won’t remember what we got here we’re at the pavilion here and nothing is more satisfying than that.

grocery shopping done.

Let’s go play wizardry. let’s sit in the sun, let’s have some fun, so roll down your win window and go out for a sandwich buy yourself a bed at the local bed and breakfast shoop de doop wop wop a loop on down to your local bed and breakfast and by yourself a night just so you can wake and smell the coffee. Don’t figure on there bein’ too many nights in your ledger that pay more than Heather’s leather in hot high noon weather whether the weather is cold or whether the weather is hot, we’ll be together whatever the weather whether we like it or not. Don’t forget the syllabant h in whether neither whatever. There’s no “h” in weather. it’s grown cold today, global warming’s got me down again I can’t describe what people were talking about all those years ago when they got up got down and got slow. Don’t say no no to your children daddy don’t say no no to your child, no no are the making of bad raping bonobos gonna grab your goose and gobos and go fuck and fly.

“Aaaaaaah” I exclaim, back to my chair again, out here again in the cool warmth floating by the moist sweetness in the trees that drips down and around the soil soaks it up and sends it up back up the sweet aromas your noses knows is so good, you got life lover, you got life.

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