I’ve said it before and I will say it again, you don’t miss a lemon tree until it’s gone.

 Naked trapped in a concrete bunker. How do I get out? Wrong, how do they get in? My boredom plagues me in my oxygen prone aquarium with no glass just solid gray slabs. I dreamt of a car with carpet rolls for wheels, maybe it was powered by static. It was matted black with some white guy driving it. The car had no doors, it had a windshield. It would flap on by, emitting the sound of carpet being slapped on a wood floor. I dreamt I went back to my college campus for a reunion but no one recognized me, they didn’t even pay attention to me as though I were a blank face in a blank crowd. I read a book on operations management, it awakened something inside me, but no one else seems to care. I tell them, I scream at them, this will work, but I have no power only patience. I feel I have no power. So when you turn 38, is that the bird seed birthday? I bought some dark chocolate almond Graniller (that’s my pet name for granola), it was really good. It was so good I took the bag home because I couldn’t trust myself. Do you ever wonder if the nick name you give something is some horrible derogatory word that you will say out loud at the local progressive liberal free trade coffee shop? You will say: Yes, but I am a friendly nonjudgmental bigot.  I’m really not trying to hide my frustration in a long rant of run-ons or drown my fury in liturgicalisms…which I now know has nothing to do with literacy or literature, but it will not stop me from professing my anger, my emotions in word form, a word press, word juice press, eat your words, drink your words, sip thy art, slip in someone else’s art and then wonder why your shoe smells funny.

So naked? No protection, no tools, no clothing, out in the open. Concrete: here and now, no emotion, unmovable, hard and uncompromising. Bunker is a fortress. I: it’s me. They: it’s them. Diagnosis: I don’t like the idea of being trapped in a bunker unless it’s made out of peperoni pizza with mushrooms and onions.

Questions I have:

Have you tasted Skin Cheese?

Would you lick a Toad Scrotum?

What does Left Lime Jell-O go with?

Cantaloupe Marriage?

Are you responsible for the snot covered key pad at that ATM in the heated shelter where that old homeless man named Single-Wing pees?

How comfortable are adult diapers?

Could you make a bridge out of them if you had to?

Would you call it the AdultiDipro Suspension Bridge?

Would you be worried about the weather, if you were extra salty?

It's not my best but it will suffice.