further along in November
The swamp thing awoke me on its recurring cycle of heating + relaxed spinning + creaking w/ off-balanced ticking like a card in the spokes of a stingray w/ a sissy-bar like a timer on a bomb reinterpreted by an echoic gloopy dream mixed w/ a kind-of reality like a re-engineering in mind as the radio station droning traffic conditions explaining for traffic you need a lot of cars you need too little road you need someone fishing under the seat for a lost cassette upon investigation the heat pump’s metal fan box revealed a thin but hampering frozen-over casing — not loosened by a verbal cuss coaxing whoa to the legion of decency nor swinging of a rubber mallet — on the third chance to remedy a heat-gun flashed to mind i hooked up an extension cord then i hooked up an extension cord then i hooked up an extension cord to make it w/in reaching distance blasting hot air aiming at the sinister hi-pitched warbling sound that smells of cat litter + base elements holding fast eventually beginning to melt then backed away as the alarming noise pitched up + felling reduced to a low roar of a smaller scared animal easily taken + understood being less than what it had been it worked swell for a bit after that i hit my toe so hard on a table leg as to retch w/out vomiting + the bed had gotten cold but if i was given the native american name shoots-hot-air-at-her-heat-pump-at-midnight it was well worth it.
Her initials would be SHAAHHPAM.
ReplyDeleteJust call her Shaahhpam.
it's a good name, better than Two Beers
ReplyDeleteHahahaha. Whatever works. My extension chords are never long enough either!
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