My Little Feet

All of a sudden (upon immediately arising refreshed, whar these lovely bones did not ache getting shut eye lasting amply time for fatigue to brake, long enough for tear ducts to generate sandy granule size piece smaller than a Jimmie sprinkled atop piece of cake an inexplicable fanciful notion gripped me to circumnavigate the globe (then during or after write a poem or journaled) possibly like Sir Francis Drake who lived (circa?1540 – 28 January 1596) alight to adventure found yours truly though no longer tired i.e. once adequately rested and awake, (despite sleeping respite did reckon asthma second daily nap no...no...no...,this not "FAKE)" ah ran to the community room, cuz sigh did hanker for coffee, sans one of the (perky, finely grounded, Earthy) residents, who faintly resembled a (Lake Woebegone) Minnesotan from Land o Lake did brew, filter, and invoke love said coffee she did make, tubby extra sure boundless energy would keep me alert for: long day's journey into night and while walking briskly (this took about a bajillion orbitz round the sun, cuz ah...unfairly small feet for this opaque grown man hoop ping to partake of sipping a hot cup of Joe, (despite the outside temperature feeling like a bajillion degrees - courtesy of global warming) mouth (analogous to the dog of Pavlov) started to salivate for desperate caffeinated thirst to slake after a couple swallows... ah (no idea why butta) Zarathustra channeled thru me didst spake.