This is another roadtrip-inspired mental wandering from my brother Michael, written just before we left or composed in a hotel room -- possibly in Kingman? or maybe not, but somewhere around there. I tend to zonk out on road-trips and sleep pretty well, except for occasional dreams about having to be back at work (sigh). Michael tends to think about stuff and then write it down.
Cat
Got your ass kicked out of the room. Again
I don’t feel sorry for you, always dickin around
You know what she’s like - the one that feeds you
But you do it anyway, don’t you?
Why can’t you be like a spider?
Sit around and wait
Wait till stuff comes to you. Patient.
Bugs have legs, you know, and they’re dumb
You must be dumb too
High GQ (Gullability Quotient)
Bugs are your daddy
You always take the bait
Do you ever eat anything?
Or just bat ‘em around
Till they drop dead
Then what, dimwit? No more toy
I like to watch you
Doing those pointless things
You’re a teacher - a guru
Now I know what not to do
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