A.G.E's Joint

  It's time. I must go. You can't hold me forever In the shelter of moss and twigs. A world awaits of shoals For my raft To succeed Or fail. 

  Check your oil, Mister? Is that one of those Mercury Convertibles? Oh, a 409? I bet kids these days never seen one. It looks like that left front's a little low. I'll get it. Yeah, all they want is look at a screen They don't even dance when the Opry's on. Makes me gladdder to up here in the hills. Don't even talk about Asheville or Charlotte Them's dens of iniquity. Anyways, you're ready to go. Be careful down there in the notch Not all the roads are back. 

  250 years of conflict Of victories And disappointments We sit and watch the parades go by. Ribs are on Potato salad at the ready With fireworks substituting  For the real war.

The shack was a weathered gray stack of sticks overlooking the wide tidal flat. A getaway from the real world. Jimmy and the kids fished the marshes during the day while she spent most of her time on the porch reading trashy novels and getting pleasantly buzzed. Like right now. The white Adirondacks contrasted with the dark green paint of the screened in porch. The box of wine on the table next to her. Outside, a shelf cloud storm had blown in, the wind tossing her still full curls.  Emmy came out to check out the weather, carrying her smoothie.  "Mom?"  "Yes, Sweetie." "You and Daddy have been together for a long time." Emily took a small pull and looked out at the approaching rain. "Were there any other boys besides him?" Kathy poured another glass of wine and was quiet for a moment. She'd never lied to her daughter, but this was a little personal.  "Not really. A couple tried back in high school. But they never got anywhere." ...

 Marco Polo Marco Polo Sun setting  On our prodigal summer Not long until Life won't let me Kick the can any longer. 

  Step right up, folks. It's the game where it's all made up and the points don't matter. Live improv from lower Manhattan. The scene is: You are on Jeopordy and your fellow contestants just came out of CBGB's. What would be your next line?  "Songs from the psych ward for $200, Ken." "The answer: 'We can't take her this week...' Yes, Jerry?" "What is Personality Crisis?" "Right. But you don't get money because it is imaginary Bitcoin." "Well, Darn."