I.
Your stomach growls as you carry in your groceries
And unknowingly step in shit tracking it across your floor
When the smell registers you look back and see your prints
And a bag tears open evacuating its load
Glass shatters and your floor is now slick
Glazed with extra virgin olive oil that prompted your trip to the store
Blood pressure rising and expletives flow
Dogs rush in to greet you deaf to your screaming
No
Now running in fear from you, their paws drenched in oil
No good options available to you and the next several steps just make things worse
Then the swelling rage at the time taken from what’s left
For wiping and cleaning as cortisol careens through your extents
Quieting hunger and turning the floor over to despair
II.
Everyone is waiting and you’re obliged to go
Messages ding asking you to bring something from home
Tires are soft so you put the bag down and grab the pump
Finger bones bang into spokes as you try to uncap the valve
The Brompton rocks on its rear rack’s upgraded rolling wheels
You try to steady things but the skull shaped cap is stuck
So the front wheel twists and the bike goes to fall
Now the cap’s off but the pump head isn’t taking the valve
Your finger bones fight the spokes as you try to couple head to threads
All the air has gone out the tube and your phone dings
Head pops off the hose and it’s a rough break
Pump takes flight as you let go at the end of an anger-powered swing
Adrenal glands in overdrive as you look for your other pump
Change this head to Schrader and take another turn
Fingers close to bleeding when you think you’ve gotten it done
But pumped air doesn’t seem to be swelling the tube
Too desperate to kneel down and try to get a better seal
Quicker thrusts don’t a god damn difference make
Back on your knees prostrate and you hear a hiss
Valve and tube have cleaved apart
Another year taken off the end
III.
IV.
To be cont. stay tuned.
SEÑOR - The Blog 