Greetings from the Hill
82/90 E5/10 0707/1948 80%H
Blue skies beautiful and....humid,
the morning after a rain and another
day without water, problems with the
pump and a dumb oldman.
A fractured rib from another fall before
dark, drunk and stoned without meals,
"When will you learn to cook and sip,
almost fifty years and still stupid,"
sighs the madone weary of worries and
nowarranties on eldercaring, of course
he was alluding to the drinking years
beginning with the Comtempus bar
the youngman bought in '59.
The days of Miles Davis and Mort Sahl,
the latter never a drinker or smoker,
and still sarcastic, brilliant, witty and alive.
The comedians of today fuckmouths without
intellect nor imagination, appealing to the
lowest common denominator, bad taste
and the advertisers message.
"What can you do...live in an igloo,build a zoo
on a tropical island, grow bananas and nuts,
too cold for the former, trying the other,"
muses the oldman sucking a Bugler
ignoring the pain waiting for rain to fill up
the pails and flush the toilets, the power on...
classics from Havana and blogging on,
no storms on the Weather Channel
another shutterfree week,
ninety-two at noon.
In these Isles of Eternal Sun.