Some Evil Days

 This should not have been written, because yesterday, I should have been dead.

Been very sick; high and consistent fever since Saturday, trying to breathe around a solid 'block' in my chest...and yesterday Barb thought the jig was up, with a temperature of 104.5 and breath that really had to be pushed.

And then the fever broke, and breathing became more normal.

Not out of the woods but I'm here.

I won't get to many of your Five Minute Friday posts...if any...and certainly with no sonnets. I'm too tired.

But I hope you'll like this Ode to Barb, the last one I wrote before I was overwhelmed.

She stands there in her do-rag
and her mirrored shades;
some peers are now becoming hags,
but that's not how Barb's made.
She's got a small chain steering wheel
in her sport utility,
and speakers that will let you feel
hip-hop in her vicinity.
She's put in top hydraulic gear,
the best she could afford;
Christ on dashboard makes it clear
she's low-ridin' for the Lord,
and when bright Heaven's days arrive
she'll school the cholos how to drive.

Here's WAR, with Low Rider (please click here if the video doesn't load on your device).