Giddy from my absolute bluster
(not to mention lack of food
and a big dose of nicotine),
I skipped up the hall,
singing
a Queen
song about paying
dues and doing time, no
crime committed. Oh, that
Freddie Mercury. What a waste!
That guy was really something—a rebel and worse.
In a day when it was supposed
to be okay to experiment
that way. No condoms,
just good gay fun. We
know better now.
As I thought
about that, I had
to wonder: What will we
know better about tomorrow?
Who cares? Hindsight is useless.
Even looking back now, things seem a bit muddled.
Northern Nevada Autumns
are filled with weeds.
Toxic, high-allergen garden killers.
Tumbleweed.
Rabbitbrush.
Russian white top.
Guess how I spent that Sunday.
Wound up on Claritin