For this today, I don’t feel like letting it get away. The energy ain’t all the way there; that right zing, the natural slice against the peel of the wave, get rigid to go with it, and rip-a-slash, down the tube—catchin’ barrels and gettin’ feral.
Ya never know what the aqua bar is servin’ up, unless ya get your ass over to the sand. Regret uses any excuse it can, and it needs to, because the desire to reap in the sun, laugh on the run, and keep a devil-may-care grin, under the gun; all that requires is the wrecked & worn-hard roughshods to keep beating back against the world, and have some damn fun.
Life’s so fleeting, and it gets so serious, and I’ve never been good at any of it. I’ve never known how to get fully severe about temporality; flesh and sin, that won’t last long enough to truly be here.
