Wednesday, September 7, 2016
hot pink sunglasses
with the visor no help,
and I'm squinting my eyes
to try to see my way.
Exit to the Flying J in Tucumcari,
I need gas anyway
and a coffee if I'm going to
drive into the night.
Some postcards since I'm in here,
and some hot pink sunglasses,
because I'm 57, and I want them.
Now what are you looking at?
I'm a walking Bell curve,
with respectability at my apex,
and wild abandon on either end.
Even my stats are confusing.
I'm finally that different drummer
that I used to be,
before normal sucked me in,
for a brief, boring ride.
Now if you'll excuse me,
I've got a sunset to ride into.
And through my hot pink sunglasses,
I see infinite joy and courageous splendor.