come to mama boys; let’s get this show on the road.
i’ve been in the fast lane to 2013 since june, practically indifferent to various turnpikes and exits promising adventure and hoopla.
my music is loud and the beat is hard. an old, black t-shirt with ripped off sleeves kind of tune, where my dark hair whips side to side in the untamed winter air, and my equally dark, black boots stomp around, romping madly and wildly as i offer up my own version of tribute to the gods and goddesses of prosperity, misfortune, and good skin.
won’t you join me in a jitterbug?
tall spines, shoulder’s down, eyes ahead, color within the lines.
this feels cozy and safe to me.
rules were made to be…..followed.
i wear those words like an o.j. simpson glove. they fit like second skin.
it’s fine if some think i’m a mundane, trite, farm-raised trout.
i’m on a crusade to glamorize the boring.
and i have the hunkiest partner in my jihad.
sure i talk a big game, like i’m speeding down the highway to next year. but we all really know i hate to drive, and never go over 70 mph.
i may say that my eyes are only on the prize, and you better not get in my way, i won’t even stop for a flat tire or crossing kitten in my path,…..but when shove comes to kick you down, if you need soup or an ear to bend, i’m here to lick wounds, bandage hearts, and pom pom the fabulous.
so while i’m anxious to ring in the new year, i’m just as happy to have a dance party, with you, here, today.
thursday divine to you m’loves.