an abstract tune tuesday

by Steven J. Serafiani

what to do with a tuesday mood? Ah!
opened metal carriage and wheeled on
west; country corn bulge rows in between
nature’s telephone poles and man’s telephone
poles; all hugged my two lane. shades,
spirits and nothin but time on
my
hands. rolled through a few main streets-
the permanent tourists looked at ease as
they strolled old brick fronts and ma and
pa rarity; I smiled and saluted. kept
on with dial tuned to baseball game muffled
smatter of chatter from the crowd between pitches
and back to bass walk goodman(god). swapped
cig with silvertube and ingested some
green
brain mink buzz. [all this time] been
pushing away lake shore metropolitica and
it’s big businessman ideas of jangled
commute and fucked timepiece misread;
all one big slouch! anyway,
kept
on
partly sunny sky- meteorologists called
for rain. pessimists. I being good
natured on a magnificent tuesday bathed
in golden silo heaps. stopped in at a
biker bar on outskirts of population
hardly thousand to grab a beer and
press black ink
into
pocket ruled. two cars and five harleys
sat on gravel. it was two pm, although sure
that seven pm might hold same gravel
traffic. shirked the sun but told it to hold
for an hour- into dive strode. the good
bars have a certain oily glow to them. yes
yes yes it was slicked. the bartender came
over; he was sturgis sleeve cut off bearded
shiny headed halo of a character. slight
scar
on his temple,
looked like half of mexico. asked for an
old style bottle, 54 bucks in my pocket(minus 2)
now; let it dwindle for good. a couple of
older hardhat constructioneers played
cue ball shuffle and hardly said a word. I
wanted to shout, “I’m envious of your primal
silence and existence- round of whiskey!” but
sat
scribbled
with baseball on the tube and nothin but
time fodder. thought about what two wheeled
rumble I should buy and when. thought about
doing push-ups in the morning for ritual. thought
about the grand ole hoot this weekend as my
family returns from different map pushpins for
sister’s wedding. thought about 52 bucks pumped
into tank(well minus another 2) and how far into
Iowa or Minnesota I could get today. there will be
a time for that; gulpdown last drop, paid, left.
as I greeted the
sun,
I noticed a fence ahead with several steeds
grazing. lost in mental hay, I crossed road and
approached. one came over and put it’s head
on the fence. palm pointed skyward, I placed
my hand under it’s mouth. it sniffed and
accepted then I moved to it’s nuzzle. this
beast accepted this beast on some level of deep
dig
and I was grateful. stood there for a few more
until it rejoined the others. got back in
carriage and rolled back east. there will
be a time for things and this tuesday was
to get right; a slight propeller nudge into
coming
abstract future.

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