Fifty five degrees
here in Wichita.
Rowdy Joe,
my dog,
and I
walked about a mile;
a half mile south,
and back.
The cool air feels great
to both of us.
It makes things smell stronger
to littledog,
as I often call him.
He finds things to smell,
and he wants to linger,
and smell them some more,
more than I am willing to wait.
I am hungry,
when we walk.
Roommate Bob
fixed burritos.
My compliments to the chef.
red orbit dot com
If you know about my Pam,
who died
in 2008,
and you know about my Carrie,
and my Bev,
and my Tonia,
then you may feel a little joy
at my pain.
(Admit it!)
Here's what happened:
When I called,
from the Walmart
break room,
Carrie:
answering machine.
Tonia:
voicemail.
Bev:
Too tired and sleepy to talk,
or make love.
And I remembered,
Pam's voice
was better over the phone
than in person,
and she always adored me,
(except when she was angry).
I wanted to call Pam.
You feel I have too many girlfriends,
you feel joy at my pain.
(Admit it!)
Break in poetry.
In November,
1993,
and again in April
of this year,
2010,
National Geographic,
National Geographic,
published special issues
on
water.
Water.
I keep warning about overpopulation.
I keep advising contraception,
specifically vasectomies,
(see my sig line)
and millions,
maybe billions,
will die
from disease
from bad water,
or starve
for lack of irrigation water
for crops.
At the very least,
there will be a shortage
of meat,
and what will happen then?
Rednecks with guns
may not take to veganism
without a fight.
and if they hijack just one meat truck,
the truck drivers will not deliver
without the National Guard
in escort.
Are you ready for that?