My Little Feet

All of a sudden (upon
immediately arising refreshed,
whar these lovely
bones did not ache

getting shut eye lasting
amply time for
fatigue to brake,
long enough for tear ducts

to generate sandy granule
size piece smaller
than a Jimmie
sprinkled atop piece of cake

an inexplicable fanciful
notion gripped me
to circumnavigate the globe
(then during or after

write a poem or journaled)
possibly like Sir Francis Drake
who lived (circa 1540 –
28 January 1596)

alight to adventure found
yours truly though
no longer tired
i.e. once adequately

rested and awake,
(despite sleeping respite
did reckon asthma
second daily nap

no...no...no...,this not "FAKE)"
ah ran to the community room,
cuz sigh did hanker for coffee,
sans one of the (perky,

finely grounded, Earthy)
residents, who faintly resembled
a Minnesotan from Land o Lake
did brew, filter, and invoke love

said coffee she did make,
tubby extra sure boundless energy
would keep me alert for:
long day's journey into night

and while walking briskly
(this took about a bajillion
orbitz round the sun,
cuz ah...unfairly small feet

for this opaque
grown man hoop ping to partake
of sipping a hot cup of Joe,
(despite the outside temperature

feeling like a bajillion degrees -
courtesy of global warming)
mouth (analogous to
the dog of Pavlov)

started to salivate
for desperate caffeinated
thirst to slake
after a couple swallows...

ah (no idea why butta)
Zarathustra channeled
thru me didst spake.