Shit, and I even started late. Ain't that the way it goes. Slam the gate, but not on your toes. I look to the ceiling and hope to see a spider crawling. They inspire me. Kindred spirits or some shit. I scuttle and hide in dark places, too. The sound of a truck hemoragging outside isn't helping. There are so many things that don't help. I think I should return to the sucker hole. The fishing place in my mind where it is always 75 degrees and sunny. Light breeze. Yeah, I'll live there. I'll round up all my spider friends and we'll go hunting. I'll hunt for bluegill. They can keep the mosquitos scared.
Now, the time has come for us to say goodbye. Swing your partner round and round. Then fall. Get up. Drink. Repeat. It's a fucking hoe-down.