Consider me a very interested observer. Skin in the game. Years and years of beebopping and reverbbing. Just searching for the creases and crannies. Nooks've all been found. Somehow, someway, a turn of the corner is coming. I can't tell you what and I can't tell you why, but I can tell you when. Someday. Someday is when. Chunking flowers on the ground and snubbing your nose at steak. Like a bovine insult.
The A/C got a tune up. Running like a dream, freezing the summer months. Circulation improved with regular maintenance. Heats up on the south side. Sun beats right through the huge oaks in front, heats the brick up good. We could get cooked up in here. Once again, God bless the folks who work in the air conditioning industry. Public servants of the south, appointments stacked back to back. On call always. You can, and should, control your climate. In one ear and out the other. That dude don't listen. Ready golf I said! Cheering up and sounding off. We fought when we had to. Our duty was done. Kohrea was a mother. Colder than a deep freeze. The rightous end wars. Making peace by whatever means is needed. Elimination, unconditional surrender, or death. We'll sort out the details over tonics and gins and wild turkey.
Those tobacco boys shoulda come clean. It's cool to die. Very near the truth. With dignity and peace. We know the pain is coming. Our very own crucifixion, complete with last words and see you laters. Old men want to decide, they want to instruct the less wise. But the young are deciding on their own, claiming the future for themselves. Polite and courteous, grinning slyly, the old of the future. Every generation gets a clean chance, an opportunity to proclaim. Do not go silently into that great night. Rollick around. Stumble into walls. Knock on the doors of your neighbors. Put your face up to the glass. Hopes and dreams and inspiration. Spend these hours wisely, watch the sun rise and set daily. Weather permitting. Earn your weekly wage, pay your monthly debts, two vacations a year. Ahhh, those white sands of Destin. The resort girls. Morning winds and nightly life. Count them waves, all of them that come in. Your life in the grains of sand.