Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Lyn #6

She said she was small and for some reason that turned me on and I cannot seem to get turned off.
I haven’t paid the electric bill in eons so I’ve adapted and learned to hear in the dark like a bat or coal miner.
Sometimes the writing comes so fast it’s all I can do to get down every word before the inspiration passes like a passenger train moving through the undigested night.
Lyn’s politics hits me right between the eyes and that’s okay because too many people don’t know how to formulate a thought or do and refuse to spill the refried beans.

She put me in my place and after doing so didn’t block me which made me smile from ear to cauliflower ear because her skill at communication is second to none and when she sighs it puts me right back there in the cartoon dust.
We begin as either chickens or eggs depending on who and what you choose to believe in. I’ve learned to hedge my bets early and do not take my chosen status for granted.
Lyn’s intellect leaves me wanting as all great intellects should. I may not agree with what she says, but the way she says it drives me into seditious fits of execrable rage.

I’m impatient, impertinent and irascible to the Granny Smith core and I’ll either learn to play well with others or will continue to live a life of isolation and insubordination.
When she called me on my shit I knew the jig was up and if I didn’t want to lose this Flaming Torch I best get my shit together and stop pushing so many unnecessary buttons.
She informed me I wasn’t out of her league which blew my mind six ways to Sunday and proved to me, once and for all, I don’t know as much as I thought I did.

Charles Cicirella

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