A poem inspired by Beer N. Hockey:

Last night must have been an evening for falling asleep on the couch. I do this habitually – when Rosa is not around to bark at me or wheedle and cajole – and my back is no longer supple enough to withstand this ritual punishment.

At least you came to with beer on the table – if warm and flat.

I was roused this morning by a movie channel preview running endlessly on a loop. Mel Gibson with a saltire painted on his face, shrieking on about freedom.

Braveheart, be damned.

What\’s the pain of ceremonial disembowelment compared with waking up on the couch at 7:00 AM and staggering into the kitchen doubled over in agony to make a nine-year-old his breakfast ?


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punishment exercise, weblog version

Hello. I am still breathing, if you wondered at this latest absence. I needed to step back from the drop awhile, the empty space between the rails, to let the game play out. It has not been pretty for