I had a dream where
were dueling, not with banjos
thrusting & parrying as swords,
nor fisticuffs bold as fjords,
but chthonic power chords
& then I woke up this morning,
abandoning chez Randal for the Wheelie Bus --
what light through yonder sky breaks,
it is freezing, & there is the moon!
Sorry, number one, you lose.
Gee, hope the new Towering Slab PTB hire doesn't read this blog.
He might think I'm weird, too.