|
Bullfrogs And Dirty Old Men
Beautiful run, 5:30 in the mornin'. Don't have much wind as I've been smoking and lazing, but what a grand sunrise! Early morning moon through blue spruce! Robins and mourning doves everywhere.
Strolling to the duckpond, I feel grand. Puff my chest a bit and feel dandy. Trip down the stairs and twist my ankle. Don't care!
Three herons at the duckpond! Black-crowned night herons, I looked'em up! Lovely. The big one on the footbridge caught a fat goldfish, and it was something to see that bird swallow something bigger than it's own head! Ducks a-waddle. Bullfrogs boasting. No hummers, no mice in the brush. At least, I didn't have time to seek out the scurrying muridae before an old man in a maintenance uniform pulled up on a bicycle.
"Lookin' for some fun?"
"Not particularly, no."
I dunno! Maybe my face was too open and happy cuz I let the pokerface slide! Ick, riff-raff!
"Whatcha doin' out so early?"
"Goin' for a run. Lookin' at birds."
"Yeah. Listen, I'll give you five dollars if you jerk me off."
"Uh. No."
"C'mon."
"No. No. No. No. No..." I put on my sunglasses and trotted off, still shaking my head, "no, no, no, no..."
"At least I tried!" he calls after me.
But it's such a beautiful day, not even the dirty old men can bring me down! Who do I have to thank for that, who?! I think you know who you are. *smiles* I am buffered against distastefulness, at least for a little while.
Ah, the sun is rising. What a day!
last modified May 28, 2002 at 6:04
I have an impeccable strategy against dirty old men: be one yourself. Works every time -- they run screaming.
I hope the ankle's awright! Oy.
The Scurrying Muridae would be a kickass name for a rock band.
Lovely evening to you.
|
