Getting Dressed for the Wedding: a Fashion Tanka
Had I known I’d feel
like one of Charlie’s Angels
(from the seventies)
I think I’d have worn jumpsuits
but exclusively by now.
Had I known I’d feel
like one of Charlie’s Angels
(from the seventies)
I think I’d have worn jumpsuits
but exclusively by now.
The bread is
three days stale;
the toaster
singes the edges.
The jam from
the farmer’s stand
is runny and bland.
At least the coffee
is never too strong
for us.
It’s barely anything
– I didn’t even make eggs.
We’ll crunch and sip
in silence,
except to grouse about
another batch of rain,
until you get up
to put in a load of whites
while I put up
last night’s dishes.
Isn’t this also what we live for?
These dull tones
to paint a beautiful life?
Chenille fiber line the ballerina’s form,
She pirouettes as I snuggle warm;
Humming from behind the propped zenith kit,
White noise, ukulele strings, and Don Ho’s favorite hits;
capacitors and vacuum tubes collect dust,
Some day the electronics will be covered – but for now – just don’t touch.
Sleepless after lunch – respite from childhood cares,
Richards Topical Encyclopedia, another world is in there;
Fifteen volumes of adventure, magic in each paragraph,
Lessons of fine art from the master’s, science, home crafts;
Bright brilliant colors, fairies, pet care, paper Mache
Each volume something to pass time away.
In no time baby sister is restless, her crib begins to creek,
My door opens, you can get up now, softly mom speaks;
Finish the section, just a few minutes more,
Come on and get up, little brother stands at the door;
I set down the book, time for exploring out back,
Swinging, Jumping, climbing, and riding piggyback.
church bells
call to worship
absent where I live now
dawn, noon, dusk, special occasions
grand sound
She’s a ten gauge
A live wire
She makes me feel good
Hot, a copper ten gauge
Has pots and kettles on a low boil
Mystery mason jars roiling on the shelves
Wise in the garden with weeds and herbs
Long blonde legs, habanero salsa
She’s a ten gauge
A live wire
She makes me feel good
Hot, a copper ten gauge
She puts me on a kidney cleanse, a seven day fast
All that you love must be put aside, baby
Meat dairy fish eggs tea coffee
Sugar alcohol chocolate and me
She’s a ten gauge
A live wire
She makes me feel good
Hot, a copper ten gauge
Rind of lemon in your left cheek, carrot in your right
Chew forty times,, spit in the jar, add marjoram cats claw comfrey root
Fennel chickory uvae versa gravel root marshmallow root
It’s bitter baby, drink it up
She’s a ten gauge
A live wire
She makes me feel good
Hot, a ten gauge
Then comes the colonic tonic
It’s a salt water flush with a rectal probe
An explosive expulsion, don’t leave the vacinity all day boy
You are reamed and I don’t mean maybe
She’s a ten gauge
A live wire
She makes me feel good
Hot, a ten gauge
At the end it’s a roll in the nettles
A soup and a salad of the same
A poke in the nest for the ground hornets
Stand still for a shower of stings
She’s a ten gauge
A live wire
She makes me feel good
Hot, a ten gauge
It’s party time
The guests have arrived
It’s game time
The team takes the field
It’s bedtime
The Zzzz have been caught
It’s wedding time
Here comes the bride
It’s nighttime
The freaks are out
It’s fight time
“Let’s get ready to rumble”
It’s Showtime
Break a leg
It’s tournament time
Put on your dancing shoes
It’s vacation time
School’s out for the summer
It’s my time
Mental health day
It’s Christmas time
Presents and parades
It’s renewal time
The ball dropped
It’s thinking time
The Thinker
It’s quitting time
Punch the clock
It ain’t gonna rain no more, no more.
It ain’t gonna rain no more.
I don’t care what the doodlebird says
it ain’t gonna rain no more.
Trump will shut it down.
Trump will shut it down.
They ain’t replacing White with Brown.
Trump will shut it down.
DeSantis is the man.
DeSantis is the man.
He don’t like gay and he don’t like trans,
DeSantis is the man.
Dixie was the best.
Dixie was the best.
A few bad apples don’t spoil the rest.
Dixie was the best.
Young’uns, close your eyes.
Young’uns, close your eyes.
Truth’s been rated Triple X
so young’uns, close your eyes.
Antifa’s on the run.
Antifa’s on the run
Obama and his mama can’t take our guns.
Antifa’s on the run.
Peckerwoods don’t give up.
Peckerwoods don’t give up.
Hitler’s one they wisht had won
and peckerwoods don’t give up.
It ain’t gonna rain no more, no more.
It ain’t gonna rain no more.
I don’t care what the doodlebird says
it ain’t gonna rain no more.
After Oliver Sykes
You called it a House of Wolves.
