Mortality Forces Me To Confront the Inevitable
Mortality forces me to confront the inevitable...
Though feeling one among the basket
of deplorables, yours truly, albeit groggy
from unsettling frightful dreams also rather
shy to summon courage amidst adversity took
deep breaths (envisioning egotism inflating
confidence, whereat, I never felt so swell
during mein kampf – brutish, nasty, short -
brevity of existence predicated on lukewarm
foreboding), nonetheless "FAKE"emotional
state found, this son a gun to bite (or gum,
when not wearing dentures) figurative bullet
painfully aware, any future prospect would be
uprooted to savor metaphorical salad days - I
never been there, nor done anything of great
moment thus far, hence predicted future mulch
ditto rottenly stalked, seeded, peppered... with
pestiferous psychological grubs, therefore
what appeared as arbitrary decision generated
inside ma noggin tossed potential bleak series of
unfortunate events (courtesy Lemony Snicket
playbook), plus concomitantly set in motion
unforeseen consequences, this garden variety
humorously cornily bred tasseled fella indubitably
sensed deep within marrow of his lovely bones
serious decision he needed to make.
Without a second to lose, I gingerly removed one
after another article of clothing, and told myself to
keep cool head at all times, lest sudden change of
mind defeat purposeful crystal clear cathartic,
holistic, opportunistic...test undermining motherlode
of mettle, thence with nary instant to zinc about
and offset any chill me right hand (goose pimpled
goose pimpled entire body) shocked with heebie
jeebies, this naked ape braved weathering cold
water showered down upon every imperfect
mottled fleshy square inch.
Jet of cold water instantaneously roused former
corpse like state, though rinsing fugitive moles
viz offal body odor found me in a lather, no matter
unbridled horse sense muzzled chomping at the bit
and sent immediate jolt of joie de vivre forcing
endurance against taping hot water momentarily
conjuring living, functioning, bathing...of the grid
this former Norwegian bachelor farmer alone in the
wilderness delving into modus operandi to survive
washing aging baby boomer within pellucid ice cold
water of Lake Wobegon, where all the women
stand strong, all the men (absent this har prevaricator
"agent provocateur,") evince good-looking traits, and
all the children are above way above average height.
Copyright © Matthew Harris | Year Posted 2019
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