These are the best years!
The ones I'm living in!
Except it's only one year!
Except I can't live in the whole thing at once!
Maybe later I'll be able to do that!
But I doubt it!
Tra-la-la-la---HOOEY HOOEY!!
Monday, February 2, 2009
"I Been Workin On A Rerun"
A Woman Of Many Legs
.
I hit a deer in my car one year ago tomorrow. The deer wasn't in my car in any way at all, but I was.
I slowed down for her girlfriend, who was in front of her, but I didn't see the second doe until she rolled up onto my hood and windshield for a moment and sort of bicycled her legs. She must have remembered something she had to do, and she ran off.
I stopped in somebody's driveway and got out and ran back down the street, looking for her, but she was gone, long gone. I didn't see her run---it all happened too fast. I'm sure she got away somehow. I felt really bad for her.
She was the most mysterious and successful woman I'd ever picked up on the street. Plus, her legs were more gorgeous, and she had more of them too. (Also, she didn't smell like an ashtray and stale Cheetohs.)
Though our relationship was brief and difficult, and she mangled my turn signal and dented my fender, I wish the best for her and her future children as they all run free and eat crabgrass and poop raisins together in the woods.
I'm sure I'll see her again, in some smoky place somewhere. Soft music, dim lights. "Hey, stranger. Where ya been?" You know. Stuff like that.
Maybe at some chic petting zoo with lots of atmosphere. I'll rub her head and call her, "ya crazy ol' gal," and so forth. Like Bogart and Ingrid Bergman among little black turd pellets at a petting zoo. And a gumball machine loaded with that deer food that looks kinda like dog kibble.
.
I hit a deer in my car one year ago tomorrow. The deer wasn't in my car in any way at all, but I was.
I slowed down for her girlfriend, who was in front of her, but I didn't see the second doe until she rolled up onto my hood and windshield for a moment and sort of bicycled her legs. She must have remembered something she had to do, and she ran off.
I stopped in somebody's driveway and got out and ran back down the street, looking for her, but she was gone, long gone. I didn't see her run---it all happened too fast. I'm sure she got away somehow. I felt really bad for her.
She was the most mysterious and successful woman I'd ever picked up on the street. Plus, her legs were more gorgeous, and she had more of them too. (Also, she didn't smell like an ashtray and stale Cheetohs.)
Though our relationship was brief and difficult, and she mangled my turn signal and dented my fender, I wish the best for her and her future children as they all run free and eat crabgrass and poop raisins together in the woods.
I'm sure I'll see her again, in some smoky place somewhere. Soft music, dim lights. "Hey, stranger. Where ya been?" You know. Stuff like that.
Maybe at some chic petting zoo with lots of atmosphere. I'll rub her head and call her, "ya crazy ol' gal," and so forth. Like Bogart and Ingrid Bergman among little black turd pellets at a petting zoo. And a gumball machine loaded with that deer food that looks kinda like dog kibble.
.
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