ONE EXTREME DESERVES ANOTHER
I turned over in bed and 4 groggy cats scattered.
It was way too early to make a beeline for the light switch,
so I closed my double-vision eyes and attempted
to bury myself under my banana sheets
before the inevitable cat attack commenced.
In slumber, I found the Great Society was rapidly fraying.
In my morning shower, I had to wash off all sacramental delusions.
By first light, my porch was already being pelted by Biblical betrayal.
The irritations of a blistering summer are hitting Pasadena in spades.
It was no accident that an unrelenting sun was on the move.
I was attempting to memorize some Rimbaud and Baudelaire
as my over-easy eggs migrated into Never Never Land
with the help of a glossy Grace Slick singing in the background.
Maybe it was time to down a boosted strawberry smoothie
before the current ungodly weather report
doomed my enthusiasm for the overbalanced SoCal day.
I did remember to raise an early Guinness to St Patrick
and scour my closet for something Kelly green
as one extremely potent outcome after another was driving me under.
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