Friday, January 10, 2014

The Magnanimous Mittyopathy

Never a serene passenger
Mittyopathy engages
No longer shotgun suffering one tedious trek
Eyes closed, brain disengaged
I am whisked through the Big Book of   
Improbable Scenarios

I am a Beagle,
chasing a three winged devil
by way of a two winged saint
I shoot him down much too soon
“Damn you!”

“Are we there yet?”

After the negative response…
Now an alien, wide eyed, pointy chinned
navigating by human highway
stopping at toll booths
content to create clerk consternation
and rumors that will regurgitate
for eons

A tank commander creaking ‘cross the Somme
ending the Kaiser’s folly
one bun at a time

An eagle, rooting for road kill
eyeing little beasts
with bad intent

A hero by any other name
by a dozen names
each mine, each certified
each a traveler
upon this road of daft distraction and moderate mirth

“We’re there”
“Just a sec”

I file the good ones for the trip home
I find it impossible to be driven
without a pocketful of Thurberisms