My truck is broken

by jhon baker

Sitting in the Hospital now with my MIL getting her daily infusion of antibiotics I am reminded that I am going to give up a vice soon. Smoking. We will see how that goes as my commitment is only to the money I’ll save and the example I’ll set for my boy. Problem being that I like to smoke, enjoy it most of the time but winter makes it hard to enjoy as we do not smoke inside the house out of respect for our son and cats – they’ve opted to not smoke so why should we be damaging their lungs – we are already corrupting them mentally and emotionally – why physically as well?

I am also thinking of my Ford F150 is not running correctly – badly in fact. Pretty sure that I’ve blown another coil, maybe two and that this will cost me a few hundred dollars at least and be a complete pain in the ass for the next day or so. I’ve been thinking of getting a newer vehicle, something lower to the ground and better on the pocketbook in terms of fueling costs and the truck isn’t making it easy for me to keep it. Is it a sign? probably no, if anything it is a sign that the feelings of the truck are hurt by my indecision about replacing it – mostly on the side of drive it into the ground but I don’t like it when they start to cost money for repairs.

a link: poetry another link: more than just poetry but my poetry

go to that link – read a bit, fall in love with my poem and others – print out a few copies and hand them out to complete strangers for nothing but the joy of force feeding people the beauty that exists around them always.

Where was I? In hospital, thinking of my truck and health in general, and then poetry always comes at odd times and sometimes like an erection in church, unwelcome and possibly improper. But for this we are thankful which is what makes it the most odd – thankful that poetry in the mind is like the massive erection in church or the day you decided to not wear underwear in jr high and had to go to the blackboard after rubbing the wrong/right way, laughter ensues and the pink never leaves your cheeks again so you grow a beard in your freshman year and learn to tolerate or kill, at least maim a little.

but that never happened to me.

I saw it on television which is as good as a memory of your own.

this post has no direction.

My MIL has been stripped half naked in the infusion lab for an impromptu change of her wound dressing because her wound vac wouldn’t shut up which is because it wasn’t actually working – only pretending. Poor woman.

time to go smoke.

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