not terribly long ago in this quarantine existence
at least in the last trimestre or so
i was cruising the mean streets of democratically elected peoples representative butte
in my zupped up white yellow ford cambria with flames up the side
looking slick
and feeling slicklier
i must have felt a bit peckish
so i got stuck into something zesty
and
as you do when eating behind the wheel
it was with more enthusiasm than efficacy
and i must have dropped some piquant old lunch during the scarfing
(and boy does it pique)
and now every time i slide into the saddle
duchi of azzardo style
it wafts back to remind me
just how flavoursome it was...
i really should quit stopping and smelling the scorreggi
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