Which way do you go? Do you cry? Feel the negative, destroy your mood shit your pants worry about the thing turn left turn right gunna cry smoke a cigarette drive straight into a wall, start drinking, throw TV off a building, go for a run work out hit the gym I’m benching 500 pounds without a spotter hit the watering hole and you know why. Drain the drain, it works. Tell your story to those at the bar. It’ll be a hit. Tell the one about the supreme dumbass, that one. Dear Dumbass Supreme, you know the man cuz you are the man. Way to go with the one.
Or do you chill, rise same as when you left with sunshine end of winter warm rays through the windshield jamming tunes, crank that Antisocial, that don’t touch me, show the show. Which one it going to be? We need to know. Retrace your steps, alter your plans. Has to be the way. Never flinching. The No-Flinch Maintain. Lost a watch while swimming in Lake Mead after crossing algae-slick rocks from a previous water line? So the fuck what maintain. Retrace your steps alter your plans. No one needs to know.
Not a soul needs to know. You can rock the world surfing your way that’s antidote. But still call yourself a dill, right? I mean. Must curse mildly, recall grandfather’s Alzheimer’s, keep rolling. And when you return to the house, no neighbor’s gonna be looking out the window going, “Oh, shit, he forgot something, what a dumbass. Hahaha!” What a ficking dimbiss.
Drive through countryside alone highway’s blue runs, past sandhills within Big River Watershed not much sledding this year think once. Drive highway’s winter sun. When you see the thing on the couch, finally, what do you say? Please forgive me, lord of the self, sorry I your servant let you down. I shall pack my things.
And yet but. The thing, when Parquet Courts jamming it, then DIV’s “Blankenship” throttles upon the Yon, how much crying should there ever be?
And while Collie Buddz/Krayzie Bon’s “Defend Your Own” holds thickness. How my whining should there ever be? Stop reading the news, maintain the humble farm, husband. Away, negativity, away death knolls the daily scroll. And a virus freaking out the people. Freaking on the Man. News coverage Red Alert. Global pandemic, air travel, ships, movement, borders, jumping rocks across seas. Reminds me of us and our great body. Jumping ocean, stocks plunging every one of them, alerts enter your head therefore your soul. Just not the thing we say as a daily, ya’ll. Dear Humanity, you know this. Parking lot can’t get out and roll till the wrap. And a second one. So step with it.
Twenty minutes out, on my way to the cinder block library in Coventry, I turned away, seeking home by compass. No more Coventry, deciding not belaboring, keep the cruise. I mean, when performing you can’t go there, not even on the 100th night. Maintain all-in composure, adjustments in the moment, breathe. Turned up the music and turned south, made my way home. Changed libraries, groceries later, check in with my sons, knowing patterns. And so what’s the next thing? Unlock front door, half a second oh shit what if I left it on the roof of the car? Which has happened to me and friends with coffee, iced tea, wallets, cellphones. It’s not just me. Adam panic-returned interstate to find his phone, driving, in the center lane, already run over. Pulled into breakdown, waited, ran to retrieve it with his teenage son shotgun, managed to show at our house with his phone medium-working but not really, apps wouldn’t properly, icons misaligned, with his phone and plastic. Gloves too my second favorite. That’s me. Drove around looking no luck. Parked and paced where drifted turns. Winter sand collection along curbs. Nope. Walk away, walk away, don’t care they call you Master Finder.
