Good Friday

or Bad Friday?

Bad Friday

Woke up wondering why I’m wet; phoned four foremen who sent several specialized pseudo scientists who precisely sliced into my ceiling. Turns out I sweat.

Left the house hoping a hop around the block would knock loose dark thoughts; then I was cross checked by a Crosstrek while trekking across a crosswalk. Look both ways, I ought, but did not.

Ambulance glanced a lance; tire popped as I was propped by wires and, propelled off the gurney, I journeyed to the floor for excuses for more bruises. All that’s to say: I had lost my pants.

Noggin gauzed, I clawed and pawed; latch clacked, I unpacked a vat of Haagen-Dazs.

Which whipped around and found my ear; my eyes began to tear.

So demeaning, the screaming, not realizing I was dreaming, I screamed meaning into being; I woke up, and now I’m here.

In bed this morning fearing omens crossed past my lids whilst sleeping.

In wordy wordiness,

Walter