Toasty Neck Bones

to keep the kinks at bay . . .

Another memorable sky . . . my 2nd-floor view . . . splendors rolling off Monterey Bay as the storm systems start to ramp up for winter . . . my photo.

First winter I will be wheeling my ass off.

Two previous winters, I was nursing a pair of dying dogs on their slow stroll to the rainbow bridge. This winter shall be mine all mine.

This year has been an unmitigated bitch for me, so I’ve been easing my brutal life down plush avenues. Plumping the flattened pillows of my spirit. Buying myself big bouquets of fresh flowers.

Bowls of fresh lemons and limes to brighten every sip.

In my recent electoral exasperation, I stepped up my routine a month ago. Now I’m doing thirty laps in the wheelchair, a ninety-minute workout, nonstop most mornings. It’s my way of flooding the zone with endorphins instead of fomenting.

I’ve never done an hours-long upper-body workout.

I’ve never had lithe arms and shapely shoulders.

I’ve never been so faithful, caring for myself.

With the mornings being brisk and damp, my neck might kink painfully now and then. There are metal struts in there which must stay toasty. You can feel bold metal edges through the skin on the back of my neck.