Golden Girls -- Gonna Stuff a Chicken

Canadian Coyote

   
   "Canadian Coyote"
    
Canis Latrans--sure can into the beyond see,
All with afterlife orbs bizarre, a shape-shifting, Great White North made free;
Specifically, uniting the ill-fated,
And the many wolves with coyotes mated;
Thus, wends the better brain of the canine,
Offering a barking, playful lovemake--so telepathic, cerebral, and gelling with Effulgent Shine--
So get your inner coyote, if you dare a trick--get him honestly running,
Pouncing on rascally rodents; plus, knowing how to be cool and cunning,
Eating that floppy, marine-life Omega 3-filled fin
Of glacial sardines saluting--like Catholics on ancient Fridays skipping sin,
Going omnivorous instead of total carnivore,
Knowing even in "The City Of Angels" can toxic waste make a symmetrical scat score--
Never saw First Nations with so much unearthly might
Than the Totem-building shamans, architecting North American Light.  

Staying friends with ex-spouse

   
   "Staying friends with ex-spouse"
    
   Does Trump love the multiple ex?  I disavow any wisdom concerning the matter, for I am in misuse, morphing words into grammatical errors, making Kerouac proud that he fostered, and like a Buddha-styled, Catholic Saint lived with his Mom, and drank himself into euphoria, having a corporeal culmination met with completion of long-draft, a stream of consciousness lovemake.
   But no need to fight with ex.  Sure, a bit of animal-like animosity at ignition; next, a soft solace, marching towards the Platinum Dove, that Good Ghost, knowing God can insert a superior spiritual intellect into your life, and your ex in high heels, stumbling on park rocks with Camel cigarettes perpetually puffed--she is an adorable thing.  Not an emaciated, violated mutant of your mindmake, but a soul prayed for, knowing the adversary in Nordic Polytheism requires comedy.
   Moreover, this is a Universal Church thing.  A commitment to long-suffering and carnal misery--it's called marriage.  And the beauty is the Everlast--that Divine Endurance to say your "Act of Contrition" and Blast Off To God upon preparation for burial.
   So, yes, my ex cracks me up, and I worry about her carnal comedy; nevertheless, the only person you can control in life is yourself, and we are all, sometimes, a weird story written by the Hand of God.   

Emergency Room told me: "Eat a pickle."

   
   "Emergency Room told me:  "Eat a pickle."
    
   Years before, dandy dentist said:  "No need to worry about it."
   Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Oral Surgeons and Dentists, totally.  Next, big lump in my throat, speeding like a mercurial madman in a mini-van, one of 'em toaster vans, thinking my breathing would be cut off.  Then, Emergency Room Doc says:  "Eat a pickle."  They sent me home.
   It happened--removal of saliva duct stone.  An Internal Medicine Physician I've known for years, him fully aware I have OCD, immediately sent me to an Oral Surgeon.  It was a showdown in my oral cavity's corral.  Was Doc Holliday there?  I needed some whiskey.  Shot of Lidocaine-like substance; next, Doc and Nurse went in with sharp tools, glistening with soon-to-be gore.  
   I was just looking at the ceiling, trying not to make eye contact.  Doc was telling Nurse about his vacation.  Took about twenty minutes--he was having trouble getting a grip; then--he got it!!! 
   Dropped it in a little, metallic bowel the Nurse was cupping underneath her hands, as if holding the Blood of Christ--she did it with theological, not surgical precision.  It made a little "ding" sound.  

Post Script:  God Bless Nancy Reagan, and--for believing in things beyond.  There is Truth.     

Saint Lucy's Healing Power

   
   "Saint Lucy's Healing Power"
   
Saint Lucy consecrated her virginity to the Almighty God;
As a result, her mother healed by a Divine Nod;
At any rate, refused marriage to a polytheistic pagan;
Next, endured eye-gouging, which proved the axiom of a cruel nation;
Regardless, eyes restored upon preparation for holy burial,
And during November in 1981, her mummified skeleton stolen--so weirdly terrible.  

Epididymitis--Boy!

    
   "Epididymitis--Boy!"
   
Epididymitis, let me basically tell ya boy:
"Outlawed Elephantiasis of the scrotal sac Mr. Rob Roy."
Indeed, like mercurially hit tennis balls in the abdomen punching,
Making you hate the corporeal cruel of exercise-styled running;
Hence, as if Kerouac, you must get on the road to the physician, thumbing,
Not eating the naked lunch of Burroughs, which to the strait-laced is mind-numbing.    

Candida--YUCK!!!

   
   
"Candida--YUCK!!!"
    
I ain't fooling 'bout taking Diflucan--
Had a yeast infection, metaphorically, on rear and in mouth--like Turkey with Putin;
Anyway, Candida or blazing bullshit beyond,
Sings the wild and weird of a physician's song,
Offering:  "No dudes with weirder sickness than you."
And I am Leopold Bloom--agoraphobically a counterpoise-like wandering Hebrew;
Thus, I read the "Taming of the Shrew"--
Throw it back to ALL the guys,
Taking care of you with hamburgers and fries.