Hello. My name is Mike. I am a cyclist and these are a few of my books. I don’t keep them in alphabetical order anymore because I’ve lost that keen sense of red-sphinctered, anal-retentive pride I used to feel when I had my titles lined up neatly for my houseguests to see. These days, it’s some Harry Crews, some Elmore Leonard, E.E. Cummings, Samuel Beckett, Julio Cortazar, Alberto Moravia (that would be the book with the ripped binding) and so on. In the middle, sandwiched between Harry Crews and Sylvia Plath, you’ll see Cyclocross: Training and Technique by Simon Burney. My father, who was a great marathoner and a thinker of considerable prowess, used to say, “There is a relationship between diet and exercise.” I used to say, “But there’s a relationship between everything.” Harry Crews and Sylvia Plath and Cyclocross: Training and Technique. I live this way, relating things with each other.
I wrote a poem one time. Here it is.
You say, Love is so easy to understand.
I'm okay with this.
Got anything in the fridge?
I wish I were hip. This music is. I can’t stop listening to this song. It is my life right now. It was a hit in 2001, I think. I heard it the first time last week Wednesday. Better late than never, right? Or if you’re always late, you’ll never be hip?
"Late is the new hip"
ReplyDeleteSeizing the day should mostly be slip--then courageous slide.
The icebox? empty, due for defrosting.
Christmas sweets, with care, still taste good in July.
Telepathy, you ask. It's not for beginners,
but first you must see the whites of her eyes.
It isn't gonna suck itself....I plagiarized that, I'm at SIU
ReplyDeleteMike, could you contact me at the following e-mail address:
ReplyDeletescothawk@mac.com
Thanks!