Drive around/lunch hour state of mind

Going nowhere
Lunch time moves
Food in and down and round
Like cars on freeways
Spinning towards the destination
And I laugh as I sit
In my little car
And a few four doors down
The music fills the air
Gary Numan “cars”
And into my mind it goes
This song from rest stop years passed
As I travel through my day
Spinning wheels
Going nowhere
And the song keeps playing
And I dream a moment away
Of silly yesterday
And hanging at the beach
As feet hung out windows
Covered in sand
And the bell rings like a horn
Driving my mind back round
To here and now
And the stop sign ahead
The dreaded wall
Where speed bump slows
Leaving no wind in hair
As time to move forward
Into the traffic of the day
Beep beep
Get outta my way.

Silly thoughts while on my lunch, sitting in the car listening to the song cars and realizing in life we wiz around and back again through our days…maybe it’s time to get the motorcycle out, sun is shining but don’t feel like eating the morning bugs….sigh….and G, I purposely used no punctuation…in case you were gonna ask😆 she says with a big old smile.


Just one of those days
Wake to see the clouds obscuring
My beautiful moon and stars….
Always a letdown
As to be out freezing
Robe wrapped tight for warmth
To gaze above
At zip.
Meander to the daily job
Police round the corner
Pulling the mean speedy truck over
Slow down and move around…
Car ahead swerving
Creature to be avoided
Just another
Lovely commute.
Lunch bell rings
Ah sweet soup to fill
The hungry belly
Black bean goodness
And green salad to graze,
So lovingly made
Open the top
Oh my….
Potato scraps meant for the dogs,
Will this chaos never end?
Maybe a day to go back
Start over fresh
But one more day to go,
And my Friday will zoom by
Like mean trucks and the sadness
Of a salad that sits home lonely
In the cold fridge
And the dogs snuggled on the couch
With no potatoes later for snacks…
Ah so comical I find through
Unexpected laughs
At life’s little chaos
With no do-overs left.

Photo fit the mood: running from the thingies….run kitty run.

Smoke in the box

Smoke on the water a cool tune

smoke gets in your eyes another beauty too,

smoking is bad for you we all knew,

but no one saw this coming….

unless you own a cat of course.

Nothing sacred

whats mine is yours

what’s a little cat hair

for lunch?

Up on the table

the bucket sits empty

waiting to be filled

with Mondays work day lunch,

what do our wondering eyes do appear?

But a smoke in the box

curled up so dear.

Were you searching for mice,

or a chipmunk perhaps?

Tired of hunting curled up in there

a morning siesta for huntress Smokey,

Pa’s lunchbox a perfect lair,

but now you’ve found me sleeping there,

so outside she goes to places unknown,

perhaps the beer cooler or recycle bin,

you’ll never know the places she’s been,

smokey the wandering cat of mystery.