Those Dutiful Dogtrots Down Airport Corridors

Sitting in the Detroit airport for the flight home as I type this, all flights from Baltimore into Detroit are delayed and all flights to Baltimore possibly but not yet delayed, no explanations offered, so hear: the most shocking development of a happy trip to see my daughter: I expected, anticipated, and prepared for this to be an immersive Modest Mouse vacation, but the reverse happen, I must have already overdosed during the recent binge when hoping to overdose on them this trip, and Destroyer, who I overdose on every Maine vacation, every Michigan vacation, and who I had every intention of avoiding this trip to not deepen my Destoyer slump, came on on Bandcamp shuffle, and I'm addicted again

I provoked no one - it was baseball hat weather, too warm to wear the red hat of last post, which is the only provocation I would have attempted - we LUCKED OUT February in Michigan weather-wise - and despite my son-in-law's cousin's best attempts to bait the big family dinner into political debate (from a centrist Democrat's point of view), no one took the hook. All dirt roads started in packed snow and melted into mud over the five days, Jeep-Americans think they are invincible so they're recklessly dangerous, more hubris than politics I'd bet. No pro-maga signage, no Eff Ice signage, people in stores and restaurants perfunctorily Midwest polite, always a jolt for an East Coaster (and they can identify an East Coaster within two sentences a East Coaster speaks). It's one of the reasons my daughter lives in the Midwest. Too muddy to disc golf though I did explore and found three courses I will play next time I'm here in not-Winter, this one first
 




Yes, the big font is back and it's solely for my eyes. Yes, this a filler post against the rest of this week awaiting me at work. Smaller grid than usual below, partly because I was not online as much, mostly because we seem to have hit a lull in the clusterfuck as I suspect reassessment and replanning on next steps in our immiseration and elimination frantically continuing at Shitlordco. I suspect Dump's dumping himself in an Oval Office press conference and his panicked staff ordering all cameras turned off and all journalists kicked out getting zero mention in major spew-organs opens up vast scenarios for more of Dump's shit, and that ginormous Middle East war all the worse people in the world have boners for. Clusterfuck? Perfectly at home with this dread, dark leaves form a thread

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ON THE ROAD

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Those dutiful dogtrots down airport corridors

while gnawing at a Dunkin' Donuts cruller,

those hotel rooms where the TV remote

waits by the bed like a suicide pistol,

those hours in the air amid white shirts

whose wearers sleep-read through thick staid thrillers,

those breakfast buffets in prairie Marriotts—

such venues of transit grow dearer than home.

The tricycle in the hall, the wife's hasty kiss,

the dripping faucet and uncut lawn—this is life?

No, vita thrives via the road, in the laptop

whose silky screen shimmers like a dark queen's mirror,

in the polished shoe that signifies killer intent,

and in the solitary mission, a bumpy glide

down through the cloud cover to a single runway

at whose end a man just like you guards the Grail.