World Peace // The END
No, no that would be the greatest but if you notice, even Barack can't emulate Jesus so here's what I decree:
First, a D'Allessandro's cheesesteak on 5 Consolo's rolls just out of the oven
a return to the dancefloor at Flamingo Joe's
an panoply of primroses, pansies and red/orange lantanas
a beverage that replicates the feeling last night before reverie
a video of Thunderclap Newman doing Accidents
ten seconds of gazing out Miss Blair's classroom window seeing Jerry Stimmler flat-shift his 270 on Ridge Ave
that initial mouthful of the 1st taste of key lime pie at the PGA lounge in Palm Beach Gardens
walking down a dirt road lined with trees holding her hand
brainwash the legion of the insidious into believing every time they lie that their mouths will turn into anuses
Whitney's national anthem
Ken Walter's left field peg to Clay Dalrymple
my madras plaid shirt from '61
Jerry Verona's Columbia bike with the chrome fenders
sticking my head out of the sunroof on I70 near St. Louis singing, no yelling loudly on my way to her
that first bath in the roman tub at Hidden Cove
sledding down Retta street
hooting Virginia Bell from the balcony at the Troc
remembering that I wanted to write something meaningful here instead of crap
catching the scent of the burger made with ground lean and sausage being served for lunch today
closing this off-target clark bar with best wishes for all our loved ones to have the secret service guy look away while you catch a little sugartime with your favorite person