Tuesday, 17 August 2021

The Humboldt Hit

Cutting through the sleet of darkness - The roar made from 500 cubic inches
snarling beneath the hood of his '75 Cadillac Coupe deVille -

(I say his as in I may have acquired/borrowed) - Exhaust tips resonating 

my throttle input down alleyways and bouncing off urban brickwork - Quad halogens

cast shadows upon the freshly plowed snowbanks at 30 miles per hour,

Dimly guiding me through the streets in the upper west side -The worn

and now frozen wiper blades passably keep the snow from penetrating the windshield -

This Sunday morning 3AM blizzard having already arrived - Promptly erasing my path 

as fast as the Bridgestone’s can carve it:

 

A perfect storm....

                                For the perfect crime.

 


Sinatra's "Fly me to the Moon" starts playing over the 6x9 speakers - I crank up

the dial on this shit radio and proceed to stretch my palms at 10 and 2

and clasp the wheel again a few times - Relieving the Arthritis in my battle-scarred knuckles

now covered in the bloodstains (of the owner of said vehicle) Along with 

my white collared shirt and pinstripe tie - By orders passed down from powers above - 

The stench of dried blood mixed with tobacco smoke embedded in plaid upholstery 

forces me to roll down the windows -  

- Again -

Letting in the cold chill of November air...Punishing an already tired defrost heater -

Not sure what's louder:

 

A.

The fan struggling to keep up to the climate controls - Or -

 

B.

The hum of the right passenger wheel bearing competing with The Sultan of Swoon.

 

 

A right turn at the Humboldt Lagoons State Park sign leads the Caddy

en route towards the boat launch (So befitting for a land yacht such as this)

The weathered brakes squeal to a halt - Sliding/ploughing on all 4's...

Before stopping 2 and a half tons at the edge of the downslope -

Opening the cold four-foot chunk of American steel and glass

forces the hinges to screech loudly...Followed by a sudden thud upon closing -

Chicago's frigid winds cuts though my clothes like the butterfly knife that cut he,

(who is not to be named or talked about) and is currently residing in said vehicles trunk,

Was given an Italian necktie as a going away gift for talking/knowing too much -

With a wooden cane propped against the accelerator pedal and front bench seat -

Manually shifting the three on the tree to the letter D - Pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds

from my breast pocket before Igniting one with the stolen dash lighter

now kept as a memento - I witness the chrome icebreaker descend within the hole it's made

only for Jack Frost to cover my sins till spring yet again

- Still -

As the crimson lights disappear into the lagoons abyss,

I couldn't help but ponder:

 

 

"Man Ol' Blue Eyes really could sing....

                                                                   He really could sing."

Monday, 9 August 2021

Starting Up A Dodge Cummins In Winter.

NNNNNNNNNNo.

Nope. Nope. Nope. No.

Nnnno. Noooooope.Nope.Nope.No.

No. No. No. No.

NnnnnnmYep Yep Yep Yep No.

Yeeep. Yeeeeep. 

Yep Yep Yepppppp YEEEEEEEESSSSSSS!

Sunday, 24 February 2019

Polarized Portrayal


I dare say
The Poems of today 
Are dependent upon the use of sesquipedalian words
Created by those with degrees and the accolades that come with
To induce a higher degree of learning applied to their work,
When the equivalent can be accomplished
With a more minimalistic approach -
For instance:
My portrayal of a polar bear blinking in a snowstorm





.







Monday, 21 January 2019

Bass, Breasts and Aliens?


I have a friend named bob I really admire as he has three things in life he loves and loves them unconditionally: Loud Bass, Big Breasts and Fishing. He is also the only man I have met in life who truly works to support his hobby, fishing (and is that not the dream?). In fact he will only work just long enough building and installing stereo systems to pay the bills and what he may need for the next fishing excursion. In the past he has even turned down playing with breasts so large they have their own gravitational pull on the sidewalk beneath them (and most men’s eyes) because they were interfering with his fishing tournaments. I have not gone on one of these trips with him even though he’s asked in the past (something I will have to remedy in the future) but every once in a while I will see his catches posted on social media – usually him holding the fish up or maybe the weight of the latest catch and I couldn’t help but wonder - Is this what Aliens do to people when they abduct them? (And no I’m not talking about your neighbor Hernandez) I mean do fish have the same out of body experience we do? We see a bright light, we get pulled toward it, next everything is a blur, the anal probe could be the removal of the lure? Maybe they value the fat ones like we do, you here “Nice catch Noblar he weighs 16.3 cobex, a new intergalactic record!” Maybe they support some sort of a catch and release system like what we got here on Earth, you know, true universal humanitarians. Before they let you go, more flashes of light as they hold you naked upside down by the ankles so they can send the pics back to their home planet in a postcard format with the title “Greetings from Earth!” stamped in the top left hand corner. They could tag you with some sort of tracking device - drop you off only so you can get picked back up again in like 20 to 30 years all the while keeping records of your social, hunting or mating habits. Maybe as a joke they whisper in your ear a date like “World is going end on June 25, 2040 due to cosmic rays penetrating the Earth through a hole in the ozone layer.” They have a good chuckle on the saucer ride home while knocking back a couple cold ones. Or maybe it’s to make their job easier when they come back to single you out as you will be the only one wondering around the Albertan wheat fields that day wearing a crudely made tin foil hat holding up a coat hanger fashioned in the shape of a Shepherd’s hook. Could be the reason some get abducted more than once. Just pray they don’t pick up any millennials….                

Thursday, 6 December 2018

A dog named Jesus

If I ever get a new dog, I would name him Jesus. The sign on my fence would then say: "Beware of Jesus" or "Repent! For Jesus is near!" and if I ever lost him I could wonder around asking people if they have found Jesus, Or if they do find Jesus ask him to speak! For those that think this is blasphemous just remember, you can't spell God without Dog....