Sunday, September 06, 2015


I just pooped.
I like to call it my morning constitutional even though it’s 4:29 in the afternoon.
I stole that from somewhere. I don’t remember where and I don’t really care because it doesn’t really matter. In the greater or lesser scheme of things everyone gets their dues and their don’ts.

I told her to try and approach the song as an old European murder ballad. She’ll more than likely not listen and I guess that’s to be expected.
She did cover “Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands” at my urging though and look how that turned out.
The way she sneaks up on a song and makes it her own scares me into an early grave. She was seventeen when I first heard her sing and it changed everything for me. Everything.

There are some things I just will not write about no matter how much you offer to pay me or wink at me out of your one good eye.
There are some things that I guess you’d call sacred or sacrosanct and I will not mess with the powers that be or not to be simply to get a rise out of a coliseum of hungry sheep.
The Poet Klecko moved into the Gatsby Mansion and I wonder how the green light is treating him and if he’s yet been awakened in the middle of the night by Zelda’s crazy little ballerina mouth around his fast 'n' bulbous member.

I couldn’t find the keys. Skeleton or otherwise.
I also couldn’t figure out which direction was up and which direction was down and it may possibly be because you have turned me inside out and upside down with your plays on morality and constant rejection of the status-sucking-quo.
I watched him read a poem about Charlton Heston and it reminded me that in some sense or another we’re all Roman gladiators seeking infamy or at the very least a spirited pat on our Lazy Boy tushies.

I just pooped.
Thankfully today the itching in my anus does not seem as pronounced. I was starting to wonder if I had hemorrhoids or if the big C was finally knocking on my backdoor like an unwelcomed houseguest or overzealous and not so discreet lover.
I don’t believe that last line was stolen from anywhere although there’s always the possibility that I am dead wrong. My morning constitutional has set me free from the trials and tribulations of another bullet in the chamber day.

Charles Cicirella

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