the God’s Dandruff


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The god’s dandruff starts at the post office.

And, with the light shake of a woolly head.

From,

city limits to ragged countryside,

it begins to spread.

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There are days when travel can be conducted with a vacant stare.

Nothing mechanical…handled with care.

Then there are sequestered disturbances that require…

a  northern style of patience.

Fender benders, just happenstance.

The herd and I,

prefer,

four wheels that have endured a ridden hard, life.

Thus,

there is truth to mother nature’s cosmic style and wit.

Peril in watching her shake, shimmy and not…

give two shudders of a coiled fist.

Weeks can pass without a winter rinse.

Dirty and clumsy are the pedestrian’s footfall.

The moon and stars,

hang higher in heaven’s hall.

Welcome mats,

receive no calls.

With a constant toll paid…

frosty flakes of boxed shut-in’s…state,

‘Smoke ’em if you got ’em.

Roll it…as you see fit.’

As the lumbering tale has it…

when the cabin has a fever.

Mother begins to pout.

And, these are the squalls when having a half wit is better than none at all.

Finding humor,

akin to Rob, Peter to pay, Paul.

 

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##New Hampshire Humor:

Statements made when someone is too full!  To swallow one’s pride.

 

 

 

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