A Grand Day Out


Maurice is in a sweat. It started with a dropped call and was followed by a missed text, in a hurry, soaking wet. This is why he prefers the water. He’s a sweater. He’s not a noun sweater, he’s a verb sweater. He’s an action item. And everything’s different underwater. He jellyfishes his way around a thing, elegant and graceful, happy, quadrapus. This soaking wet from soaking sweat is drying him out. The drying out begets more wet from sweat. The sweat, the sweat, the missed text, the late to the party scramble, the showing up out of breath. The "Maurice, let’s go!" from Torgle. Forging Torgle, Maurice is thinking, forging Torgle and blorging sweat. Torgle needs a forging reset. I’m so thirsty and she didn’t work in a drink holder for me, and I’m left with the salt from my, Maurice’s, upper lip.




How and whys? How and whys am I here, in the middle. The pickle, that’s what I call the middle. Hows and whys? What are the hows. First hows is Suzie’s house. Suzie’s house on time. Before on time. And they’re already at it. I should have could have left. I could have should have left. And now what? The whys are always the same. Why she smells the way she smells. The showing up early. The calendars synced across all devices. And the peddling. I’m fun, I just can’t drink and do this. It can’t be a party cruise, somebody’s gotta be somebody some of the time. Just to be in the room with her. To be on the bike with her. To be a Maurice away from her. Our cubicles are so far across the room. Just the this. This close. Can smell her vanilla shampoo, even beyond the vodka lemonades. Even beyond the vodka prominade. But that Buster is gonna crash us. This bike and that’ll be the real hows. The real hows will be the house at the end of the long hill down.


Drinking rum having fun in the sun on the run. Rum tum tum. Rub tug tug. Suzie likes the package of a vodka and a savage. They like to joke. Oh I’m that savage. I’d like to give them a run of me on ravage. Rampage version 2.0. I eat the wolf. I ride the lizard, we bake blondie’s in the window with fire breath. Nah, I wear the spin cap and laugh and laugh just to prove I’m not the sav. I’m ultra fun. I’m reliably affable. A tangle bit of tangible. The jungle animal. Use the feet to make the drinks, make them sweet with those silly feet. Lime in the coconut. Coconut in the lime. I’ll shake the first in my left foot for ya babe. Spin my spin cap. Suzie’s house was pretty cool. Suzie Q. She’s a jump rump puggler. I bet she’s a real rump snuggler. Should have started the party last night. Maybe after the ride. Maybe after the ride. Maybe we’ll ride. Wake up lil’ Suzie.


What’s the biggest lake you’ve ever been in? Whatareweevendoingonthisbike?What’dtheycallit? Busty? Ohyeah,sexicle. Fiveseatsexicycle. SexyCali. Iwaslisteningonrepeat. I said, Busty ,let’sbebesties: My monkey and me.  I woke up like this. Surfbort.What’sshetalkingabout? Haha. I’mallinmymouthlikeliquor. I’llcallaalbumvockalemonade.Haha.Vocka&lemons&heaven&gettin. What’dCarolevenshowupfor? MeandBustywereabouttomakeandthenCarolHonkingWeatherfoot. What’ssheeventhinkshewants.Allthatshewants.Allthatshewantsisanotherbaby.Forgingstork.Hahah.Whatifshehadababyinabundle. WhatifCarriecarriedalilbabybirdielikeastorky? I’mgonnarunout ofjuiceprettysoon. That’llforginigsuckit..


I am grace. I am elegance. I am La Russo. I am ballet. I hear the concerto. My muse is the morning dew. Look at what I’ve assembled. My next bold move. My big idea. I feel it’s smooth ease against the asphalt. You chose right darling, these tires are divinity. My gaggle before me peddling, they peddle for me. This is my peace. The wind picks up. I feel its rush. I feel its rush. I feel its rush. Coming over me. We are the breeze. This is my answer. This is my purpose. An answer, finally to these clipped - What is that scream? What is that screaming sound? What is that screeching sound? What is all that yelling about? Why aren’t we slowing down? BREAK’S OUT! A wall! The Wall! Buster, THE WALL!