I will whistle my way back east on a big jet plane,
land and drive a car three hours out of the swamp,
swatting bugs and killing birds along the way,
wishing for wet therapy and a woman with a past.
Larry’s dad died, day before yesterland,
and while I never met the man,
I agreed to go to the funeral for my sister,
and while I never met the man,
I agreed to go to the funeral for my sister,
and I had to be in Orlando anyway, so I went earlier.
The cracker ceremony
is either Tuesday or Wednesday,
and I will duck out when the bourbon starts flowing,
but not before I pay my respect.
I'll have some time to kill,
so I will bother bastards I've known since I was 14,
and maybe I will do comedy at the Drunken Monkey
or poetry at the Public House.
I'll have a car and a hotel room,
so I can do whatever I want after work;
maybe I'll run into an old flame and bring her back,
or maybe I will just see John Wick 3 by myself.
Won't have much time to torture myself,
and I wonder if Kendra will come up in conversation,
but I doubt it, not amongst a bunch of dudes,
who are bored and stoned.
it's an open ended ticket,
but I doubt I will be able to stand the place
longer than Sunday,
short of a miracle, a gig, or a surprise.
I am happy I didn't die in that desert town prior,
and I hope against hope that I don't ever die
in Orlando, Florida, where irony might have me,
but destiny in other places is strong and she still may call one day.