It’s the dead of winter
and there is a
big fat fly
marauding around my garage
coming closer and closer
to my head
as it sweeps out
trying to get the most
of the situation
and I sit here
writing this
to Stevie Wonder
with a used blunt
in the ashtray
sipping on a glass of Scotch.
I light a smoke.
The fly still gets closer.
Somewhere in Western China
someone is fucking
a blow-up doll.
Hahahaha! Awesome. (buys ticket to China)
Thanks man (Buys one way no return ticket).
You certainly have a gift with words, impeccable imagination too! I love the end! /Not buying tickets to China, but looking forward to the stories from China :D/
Thank you! I’m trying to change my subject matter to something more relevant than hanging out in my garage. Damn winter.