Storms

Storms close eyes to hindsight. All the wouldas, couldas, and shouldas fall into nothingness as you batten down the hatches and hope the hell you did enough to survive. Storms are really cool. They reduce us. Break us from thinking we are kings and queens and jams our omnipotent pawny asses into the storm cellars praying to that Higher Power we thought we were last Tuesday.

Does this mean we will miss Johnny’s recital? Well, duh. What about the big sale? Well they might still have that…….if the store is still there…if we can get there……if we have anything left to buy anything with………come to think of it, fuck the big sale. The couch might need replacing and might look better against the other wall……let’s just put the fire out and hope the goddamn wall is still there. Storms have that effect.

Metaphorical, categorically, category One through we are gonna need a bigger boat, has anyone seen my boat? Turn into the wind, dammit. We ain’t gonna outrun this thing. Turn into the wind, Gilligan. Great….Gilligan the Storm Tropper. Just great. Where are Ahab, Nemo, Posiden, Wonder Womyn, and Jumping Jack Flash when we need them?

Light the torches, send out the bat signal, duck and cover, don’t use the elevators, and bring a change of clothing…..this is gonna take a while. It’s a twisted twister of brew-ha-ha…..hardy fucking har-har. Looks like a fine mess we gotten ourselves into, Stanley. Stanley? Like Stanley and Livingston? Didn’t he play Ernie on My Three Sons? Or was that Chip? No more bets, please. Storm’s a coming.

Shit storms, dust storms, dust bowls, empty bowls, put on bowling shoes, any shoes, and let’s shuffle off to anyplace but here. Shuffle, shake, rattle, and roll. Smoke 'em if you got 'em, too late to quit now if you haven’t so put another nail in the coffin, the shit smell from your pants will mask the ashtray stink. Looks like we are in for Stormy weather and it ain’t just whistling the wind of change in Dixie. It is Max, Jake, Abdul, Abdul’s long lost brother, and everybody on the 6:15 to White Plains. Everybody in White Plains and any planes for that matter. Wouldn’t want to be up in the air right now. Need to be well grounded when things come home to roost. Cock-a-doodle-doo, Yippie-Ki-Ey, and see you on the other side.

Did I set the alarm? Maybe I need to check. Make Rumi for Daddy. It’s snuggling time.