Morphing Reality

Where to go
Where to stay
Who to know
Who to play

Past the stage, the hooray
Comes life on a tray

I am bold
I am brave
But in a cave,
In my cave

In search of…me

I go monk
To white the filth; the funk
Right the wrong
Of the wrong I write
Or the wronged by write

This write cant right, all wrong
Or wronged, backpacked

In search of…me

Sweet Italian

Post Boxing Day lunch serving
Courtesy of my brother’s “twin’s” kin
I’m introduced to this fine thing

Well wrapped, round, sweet, Italian
With golden-brown tan; nice skin
Warm and white within
All for about 160 per serving

I shook the hands, jaws still glued
Jaws soon dropped as we ate
Sub-ten minutes; Italian was done
But, we were not done

Searched all Texas for more
Desperate; phoned a friend in Saudi
Called ahead, and around
Detoured in Dallas; downtown Kroger

Black, White, and Hispanic
Dallas bankers stood no chance
Focused, for some sweet Italians
3 long twin sets, and 3 rounded; no bias

Great company all the way
Houston to Tulsa to City to Monroe
Smiles; I’ll wake to one tomorrow
Sad; soon she’ll be done and gone away

Confused? Perfect
It’s not that, dirty mind
It’s about the sweet Italian bread
Stay dirt-free my friends