I pour a tall shot,
three ounces of Tarantula,
then cut a thick wedge of lime.
Giving it a lick,
the base of my hand is prepared
for the requisite salt dash.
All is ready now:
My salted hand, a shot, and lime.
I pause and take a quick breath.
When I was younger,
the shot would have been Cuervo Gold
or something equally harsh.
I am [...]

the boy has swine flu
vomit on his sheets today
parenting is great
—
the girl has it too
which end is exploding now?
working from home sucks

I call this “Killing Time.” Either because I’m killing time writing this crap, or because you’ll want to kill me just to get me to stop. Either way, here’s some poo-etry.
“Blissful Sleep”
Lonely, horny, waiting for morning
your snoring is boring
I want to sleep again
but I can’t.
A freight train in bed
thund’rous snores again
and me without [...]

Hello stranger
why are you here?
go back home
or bring me beer.
You are not my friend
nor my confidant
if you can’t find me
the beer I want.
So run on home
now that’s an order
and don’t return
without Kona Moon Porter!
I need the beer that makes me strong
the beer that leaves me weak
the sobering beer
so full of good cheer
I could drink it [...]

Never invite a tiger to tea
for it will want some meat
but if you do not give it some
you are what it will eat.
(more from the boy . . .)
The lion’s more vicious
and finds you delicious
regardless of whether
you serve meat with your tea.

I’m just killing time
waiting for time to kill me
sitting at my desk
surfing patienly
what’s the point of being online
when you’ve nothing left to do?
my boss has left me all alone
for the past month or two
and so I wait
and wait and wait
and when I’m done
I’ll wait some more
outside it’s warm and sunny
inside it’s hot and stuffy
my fan [...]

My inbox is empty and my need for validation is strong
please send me an email, some spam or Kermit in a thong.
I feel so alone now, a monkey in a storm
where’s Kermit and his thong?
Lonely, lonely, lonely,
lonely me

a sunny day
a soothing voice
a cooling drink
and you

This work is entitled “Sitting on my ass at a swim meet, trying not to fall asleep between events or throttle the children who are fighting over everything and nothing. Holy crap, there must be something to focus on to keep me from grabbing them both by the ear and screaming like a madman!” [...]

It’s 93f out there and not yet noon. What’s a guy to do but spew another poem? Swim, I supposed. Or go back to reading my book (“Dante Club”, by Matthew Pearl). But first, spewing.
Out, damned heat
let out the fire and the cold in
I swear that I’m melting
a puddle of meat
and [...]