Lost

In your sea-green feline eyes

In the perfume on your graceful neck

In the sweet caress of Faith and

Safety.

From all not you

Two souls in flames.

Streaking

A frozen crystal alpine lake

Hot cheeks touching

Snow melting

And you never even told me your name.

Lost.

*****

Happy Friday one and all.

Thank you for the recent rash of people following me now.

I talked about the open mic I hit yesterday and I will get a few copies of this flyer made:

and hit some old school bulletin boards and public areas in small-town southern Ohio. I should have maybe eight to ten people from our family, so it will be fun.

I’m getting my neck adjusted on my Ibanez. Something about the strings lowering when the weather turns cold and the humidity drops.

When the restaurant prints up their marquis for March, I will get a pic and post it here.

Next week I will start laying off the weed in preparation for my gig.

I have absolutely no issue whatsoever stopping smoking weed and starting back up years later.

I stopped drinking and that was easier than I thought, especially sitting here rubbing the stump that used to be my left leg.

My beloved spouse never gets lost. She lets Google dictate her every action and she believes in them to the exclusion of all else.

I write about it in my book EMOTIONS: Not your Mama’s ABC’s! about Karen following Google’s directions, illustrated by this sample interaction: I am behind the wheel following the directions that my knowledgeable wife is giving me.

Our destination is downtown.

You know where all the tall buildings and people are.

But no.

I am driving and now it is the middle of the desert. I turn very innocently, mind you, to my wife and say, “Gee darling, I think we are going in the wrong direction.”

“No, she barks. Google says fifteen miles and we have only gone twelve.”

“The word unspoken is the word uneaten,” a brother-ism I have used over the years.

So I bite my tongue and allow her the space to realize that what I said is the obvious and absolute truth. And  of course, when all else fails, and she is unable to affix any modicum of guilt to me, what does she do?

Apologize?

Hell no.

She blames Google.

“This app is good, but unreliable.”

And that is supposed to end it.

It did.

Stay well.

Published by maddogg09

I am an unmotivated genius with an extreme love for anything that moves the emotional needles of our lives.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: