Gatlinburg (an entry in haiku form) Time goes by slowly, hours and hours upon the road. Are we there yet, Fred? Fred plays Les Miz, and claps like a great big doofus. My ears now gush blood. Sing now, tone-deaf fool! Three whole compact discs of this? Jean Valjean you ain’t. Stopping in Georgia important part of the trip. Fred and his scratch-offs. Tony Robbins tapes – blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Please god, take me now. Big slow fucking truck, why you drive in the left lane? Make Fred have a stroke. Oh, my Gatlinburg. Hours and hours away from home. I wish to eat fudge. In the back seat, she pouts attitudinously. Don’t make me hurt you. First time yellow shirt Honey-mustard dribbles down Boobs covered with blotch of sauce. Pecan turtles, and rocky road fudge. My ass grows larger with every bite. Like Baryshnikov, Fred dances around the room. Go to bed, damnit. People all around. Dead stop, middle of sidewalk. Move your fucking ass. Rain, rain, go away come again some other day. Goddamn fucking rain. At almost midnight, screaming people on the street won’t shut the fuck up. When I awaken, my quads scream with ev’ry move. Gatlinburg Death March. Hotel room so big roomy, spacious, perfect. Butt is what it smells like. Rain, rain, yet again Gatlinburg all dark and gray It’s time to go home. Miz Poo chirps at me and then she purrs happily, glad to have us home. Fred was a great help in writing some of these haikus.]]>