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Creek Running North
March 04, 2005
"For the love of Christ!"
I saw this morning morning's moron, king-
dork of lame-brained driving, dented door-dinged Falcon, in his riding
Oh the rolling Michelins underneath him needed air, & biding
time there, how he hung upon both lanes o'er the line talking
On his cell phone! then off, toward the median to swing,
As a trash bag sweeps smooth on a cross-wind: and sudden sliding
Cut off my poor truck. My hand in hiding
Stirred for a bird, -- disbelief of, stupidity of the thing!
Rear window with velour & dog, oh, smoke, brake, turn, "hey,
Signal!" AND the fish plaque stuck to his tail, a Christian
Turns made suddenly, so close at hand to that Chevrolet!
The dunderhead he sheer plods to plough pedestrians
Swine, & Cheney-Bush fan, USA.
"Fool, fuck yourself, and (YES) your mount equestrian!"
Posted by Chris Clarke at March 4, 2005 04:00 PM
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Christ, you never told me you were a Catholic girl.Posted by: Ron at March 4, 2005 08:27 PM
I believe the Whitman poem actually ended, "and the horse you rode in on."Posted by: tost at March 4, 2005 10:37 PM
Actually, Ron, I wasn't.
But it was a Catholic girl that taught me the Hopkins.
Well, she was about 60 years old.
In a black dress.
With matching hat.
Oh, and I edited the invocation shortly after publishing to a form I liked better.Posted by: Chris Clarke at March 4, 2005 11:14 PM
I particularly like the way you kept "stirred for a bird" with a whole new meaning. Bravo.Posted by: corndog at March 8, 2005 09:16 AM