Off day. I like it. Slept in, got a massage that made me yelp like a kicked puppy, and then had lunch at La Carta de Oaxaca. Pozole of course.
Now I'm listening to music I got from the library, such as Rush's fantastic 1977 album, A Farewell to Kings.
And now, as previously promised, an excerpt from my poetry journal from high school.
The Dancin' Outlaw
Now here's the strangest thing you ever saw
A guy named Jesco, the dancin' outlaw.
Go to West Virginia, take a ride
and find his trailer, a double wide.
He likes dancin', dancin' with special shoes,
when he was young he sniffed an assortment of glues.
It's hard to understand him, his accent's thick.
Yessiree Bob, he's a bonafide hick.
When he gets in trouble with his old wife he goes and buys her,
not a diamond ring, but a 12 pack of Budweiser.
The night his dad was shot, he was full of fear,
'cause he and his attacker had been drinkin' beer.
In the neck went the bullet.
Thank god it didn't mess his mullet.
Besides dancin', just for fun,
he shoots squirrels with his shotgun.
His sister is crazy and drives in muck
in her old, rusty, duct-taped pick 'em up truck.
Their parties are crazy! You should see this!
They get drunk and sing to Elvis!
He's crazy, his wife picks at his head,
he makes threats: he'll shoot her dead.
His life is strange, but I only know one thing:
Jesco is the tap-dancin' king.
______