That’s right.
I’m done acting modest here.
The show is off.
Woke Wednesday Yoga. For first time in months. I tried pose to rock onto single foot.
Chuck Berry duck-walk shape. “Bullet pose” was said. Not digging the name.
Tried, sweated, danced, contorted some more.
“OG” ladies were there. The 60-something year olds that tell Brian they own the joint.
I used that for a gypsy band. Double bad language.
Nailing it. Not nailing it. Pose. Woke. Words.
Ordinary has been my specialty. Pushing up to the pose with my hand around my back.
Not the way. Not the way. A Glorious Not Today.
Then I Came Home. Eagle is soaring above neighbors house, down toward mine, then swoop!
Up again.
No, not an eagle.
Correction.
A huge crow with something white in its mouth.
Venti coffee. Computer out. Hard launch this poem.
Show off.
