
Marching Orders
It’s always there. That pressure. Do that thing. Build something. Make it count. Live that moment. Try that something. Be there, in the now. Because no one is guaranteed a later. Fight the good fights. Not the ugly ones. They seldom mean what we think they do. And are too often a slippery slope into bad things. Make shit happen. Push that damn airplane out every night. Come home stinking of jet exhaust and sweat. Kiss a pretty girl. The one strong enough to have domesticated the feral fox. Well, mostly. I sometimes forget to take out the bin. Even after several gentle reminders. I occasionally rumble the walls with my nightly gaseous emmissions. I can be sensitive. And, abrasive. Often difficult. Usually somewhere on the …
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