At least it's raining today. There was a bus crash
on a mountain highway not in any way designed to handle a bus that size.
I turned the TV off before they announced the number of dead.
I could have flown over the clouds, above the rain and listened
for the bus to make the turn, for the sound of hydroplaning rubber,
for the vibrations of the bus scraping the metal barricade, for the moment
the barricade gave way to too much weight.
Even though my legs don't tire on this planet
I don't think I ever paid much attention to how far away
the supermarket was, the liquor store even farther
on days like these. I could fly to Detroit and back,
with enough time to get a Coney Dog, in the time it took me
to pick up milk and chocolate syrup. A news article said
that twenty minutes of cardiovascular exercise will release
as much endorphins as a chocolate bar, but sitting at the kitchen counter
drinking my chocolate, I disagree.
Sometimes I wonder why I bother saving these animals.
Clark can be such a pussy, with all his "Everyone deserves
to be happy" bullshit. Earlier, on the bus, when that pig grabbed my ass
I could have broken his hand into minute pieces.
I could have stopped the bus, held it over my head
and brought it down on his face, over and over.
I slapped him instead and grabbed him by the testes and asked him
How does it feel? He probably enjoyed that part,
that humiliation. Deep down, maybe that's what he wanted.
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