A week away from Ground Hog Day
And my water heater’s sore.
It spat at my clumsy plumbing,
Took a leak on the basement floor.
That triggered my elderly sump pump
To noisily heave up its guts.
My cat on the workbench watched me endure
The death of a thousand cuts.
I loaded my Remington 12 gauge,
Thirteen rounds, counting one in the hole.
I returned to my waterlogged basement
And said “Darlin’, let’s rock and roll!”
I pumped the rack like a madman,
Drawing lines between the dots.
My neighbor had a heart attack
When he counted thirteen shots.
Then I ponied up and loosened my grip,
Put the Remington down, wiped the sweat from my lip.
I find no game in a proctored arena.
My demeanor is salty and gruff.
And it makes me laugh like a tickled hyena
When I’ve proven enough is enough.
And I celebrate the damage with an innkeeper’s perk,
Appreciating vengeance drinking whiskey after work.
P.S., I've got a Weil-McLain on order.
Categories:
ponied, allegory, home,
Form: Burlesque
Gotta Pac man
These money nuggets
I've got a crystal plan
This aint no desperado or scam
Thinking bout freedom in a bucket
I've got a crystal plan
Gonna trek the globe
Setting minds on fire
Independent desire
Energy recreating
Gonna meet my team and start building
But first
Gotta chomp these money tickets
Accumulate hit points
So I can take some licks
And keep ponied up to the hitch
Categories:
ponied, adventure, dedication, money,
Form: Free verse