Clearly … this is a sign from beyond. If these guys can spit at the clock, so can I.
This has to be the best smile of the summer … a miracle moment for semi-ancient sinners. A chance to laugh back the years … and rocket back to the heathen time.
I am not so young anymore … that’s what the outside says.
I hope these guys stuffed themselves into their old metal-head gear … put on the strut … and scored big time. I hope they sidled right up to some easy togetherness … and were hailed like vaunted clan members … big-time badasses makin’ an apocalyptic appearance.
I know what fired ’em up … what sent them AWOL … and off to the sinfest.
All I do is unfun myself back to innocence. No to this. None of that. No thanks. Can’t. Not today. Once upon time.
I’m like Mr. Snow White … so pure it’s disgusting.
Innocence ain’t no fun. It’s awful-dreadful. A prelude to hell in my Church of Juicy.
I spend my days resisting this and that … smothering lots of sizzling daydreams because someone … somewhere … made some fun-smothering rules based on my crinkles and wrinkles … and my sags and bags.
But those are the treads of my life. I’m sorta proud of the wear and tear. Why stop?
Please don’t tell me to grow up … I’ve clearly over-done it.
These guys … they ran straight back to their bloom-time … cold-shouldered the old memories … and traded in their boredom for some new forbidden.
Everyone should burn a day like that once in a while. At any age. Get rascally … and brashy … and fleshy … and then maybe pause for some sublime.
And top it off with some sweet whispers … with the one who gets you.
That’s so much better than that sanitized carpe diem crap.
I’m not so caught up in the jewelry of life anymore … the house, the cars, the this, the that. Inside … inside I’m not so different from decades ago when I was chasing those things … among others things.
Same passions … same flashes … same me.
And one of these days I’m gonna get my young on again.
I’m sure it’s like ridin’ a bike. Right?