NaPM April 7 2015

[rayheinrich]

done. april 7th poem of the month

Sandy Pork Chops

The sun had come, the sunblock empty;
the outside gauge read over twenty
deg' centigrade, and rising steady.
With Feet like prawns on charcoal ready;

my pink and swollen face was messy.
The hankerchief on head not dressy.
I trod on sand and looked ungainly.
the better half threw oil but mainly

I was fuckin' barbecued.

---

sorry for being late.

"He who waits, has longer to think the fucker over." - Bill Bando
(Which, BTW, worked.)

---

just get your poem in
i'm late so am doing it now [it's the 8th here]

Yeah, I messed up this time too, damn BBQ, us Texians revere it so much...
It's like writing a poem about God; better get the fucker straight or
you'll be exiled to Big Bend (desert but beautiful).