The missus served me high test coffee...

Ah... tis nothing more heavenly

(to one borne again devout atheist)

then a spring like January 18th, 2023

here at Highland Manor apartments

picturesque green covered landscape,

where intrepid dandelions

dare to defy month day on calendar

and sprout up here and there.

 

Resident wordsmith ensconced within Unit B44.

 

Actually both of us situated in bedroom;

his royal highness sitting on piano bench
(applying fingers to Macbook Pro keyboard

composing... er rather revising poem

he crafted some years ago,
(when old man winter wrought stranglehold;

now while hunched over at computer)

listening to the whistling wind

simultaneously acoustically imbibing

warm gentle breeze;

temperature approximately an unseasonable

fifty plus degrees Fahrenheit.

 

Meanwhile, the missus softly snoring abed,

the latter comfortably numb, oblivious

and toasty warm burrowed under blankets

since heat turned off

(to maintain positive standing with PECO)

curtain pulled back from window
to allow, enable, and provide transparency;

where unfettered bajillion photons

according to Pink Floyd uninterruptedly
shine on you crazy diamond,

trace sing head light shadows across wood

which hard phenomenon of scattering light

by colloidal particles,

known as Tyndall effect

naturally fostering creating, affecting

climate controlling environment.

 

I practice crafting poetry

(as if nothing else matters

to Metallica fan seeking posthumous fame)

while the spouse predictably after arising

from her early afternoon siesta
busies herself channel surfing

putting down remote control

after espying satisfactory movie
(say hypothetically Fatal Attractions,
which she viewed for umpteenth time)

knowing every single detail,

and can rattle offer personal tidbits

about cast of actors and actresses.

 

Our aforementioned regular routine

more or less repeated as finite loop until...

official onset rites of spring decreed,

where regular warm weather perfect balm
to allow, enable and provide

antidote to existential woes

coping with being solitudinarian,

and thus quarantined for life,

though sensing optimism

regarding president Joe Biden
green lighting living social pursuits

possibly revisiting following favorite pastime.

 

Recalling contra dancing
as palliative against bashfulness

life as high school wallflower ill served me
against risking experiencing rejection

qua teenage puppy love.

Though averse to plagiarize,
I thank Fiona Apple,

for the title of her

entirely acoustic fourth album,
who didst unwittingly describe

mine self emotional straitjacket

viz hitting The Idler Wheel Is Wiser

Than the Driver of the Screw

and Whipping Cords

Will Serve You More

Than Ropes Will Ever Do

prior to liberating locked up
healthy proclivities linkedin

between body, mind, and spirit.

 

Without any budding female friendships

until lo… agent tulle nudge;
which venue offered groundswell

to blossom forth into

golden sterling resplendent rod

of natural equipoise,

(an unbiased opinion) and balance

with freestyle improvisational swinging motions

unchained from moors of formality

lit figurative Saint Elmo’s

Sesame Street Big Bird

 

winging fiery dance

allowing, enabling and

providing shy awkward self

during his young early

twenty something adulthood

to cast away four ever

self emasculated handsome

straight as an arrow

tasting verboten fruit

naturally high as a kite young guy

buzzfeeding like yellow jacket

adopting spontaneity

that je ne sais quoi joie vivre

 

clamoring headlong toward pollination

healthy packing heat overflowing

testosterone bin laden well nigh

erupting sex pistol (stay man)
toward opposite gender,

whereby bravado donned as key

to hoe field of whet dreams

fostering initial albeit late blooming

roll in the hay hormonally

rooted rutting squeal to escape inhibitions

and quench suppressed libido!

 

Yes in unrhyming summation notation,

I felt mortified jump/kick starting

life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness

and let me mother over mollycoddle sole son

even though as a grown adult,

she hashtagged, yelled, and zapped
me once omnipresent boyhood maternal love

mein kampf predominantly

spent at 324 Level Road
familiar bedrock terrain

infrequently challenged fear of flying,

hence acquiesced into withdrawn existence.