i'm planning on writing some stories for this blog, but i just haven't gotten around to it yet. i've got some pretty good ones though. Like the time i tore down an ex-roommate's front door because i was drunk on vodka and couldn't find my checkbook anywhere, or doing thirty hours worth of sheriff's work days on two hours of sleep and listening to the cop talk pyramids so i didn't have to go back out on the highway and spear trash anymore. I could also mention (or at least allude to) the time i tackled the old lady in the patio furniture store, or the month i spent riding the rails, sitting higgledy-piggledy with three barrel stiffs plus one coach jawrower and a gravedigger named slick fulwood, the five of us in glad rags listening to a hallelujah peddler before hopping off in winnemucca to score a spot in a globe-trotting samba troop, and then the car-salesman who sidelined as a stage prop (in another life) telling me, "you have to be qualified to drive a ferrari."
"qualified? i'm paying cash! what do you want a bag of money?"
"Step into my office."
i will get around to writing some stories, but for now, here's another poem:
Ship It
~ see: Oak Bend Review April '09
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