Bend Over & Shower

‘Get out the camera…take a picture…the drag queens and the freaks are all out on the town!’

You want me down on earth, but I am up in space
You’re so damn hard to please, we gotta kill this switch

Strange things happen when we go to the earth.  For instance, when earthlings decide to become one with nature once again…as their great, great, great and not so great ancestors did many dark moons ago; they go it alone or in pairs in a tent. Often times, women (lesbians) will or are known to take canines with them.  Further proof they are just as butch as any camper with a Good Sam Seal of Approval.

Camping seems to have lost it’s appeal to me, after this the Last of the Moe, where are Shemp and Larry and Curly routine.  Somewhere between clean and park closed due to bad body odor, I gave up!

Or, better put, after forty, this body should be put out to pasture or replaced with a newer model: Sleek design, aerodynamic and/or two or three fewer orthopedic surgeries.

I threw your shit into a bag and pushed it down the stairs.

This is how IT all went down in P-town via the Cape of the Cod, pass the sublime surreal ocean breeze and settled in with the mosquito coastline of New England.

First, I started to not care if my legs were shaved or not.  Not a big deal, I had been in the biggest little gay seaport in America. Shortly after the Neanderthal woman look I noticed many lesbians seemed to not care about hygiene in general.  Grassy moss under the arms, biceps by Budweiser and dykes on ten speeds with bumper stickers that read, FRIGID MOTHERFUCKER.

Then the bottom fell out!  Usually, defined by what I do not eat…I became consumed by fried clams and ice cream munchies!     Sad to say, my partner of more than a decade.  The woman I wanted to take back in time.  The love of my heart-strings.  The reason for the Beaver adventure.  Didn’t seem to mind my slow turn into what I typically despise: woman run on junk and junk food madness!

I had dirt on layered atop the stains of mud that covered my pompously hairly body.  My nails chiseled with earthen-too-much- ware and sea salt.  Upon arrival back to civilization BUGS had been found in caverns nestled in the female woods.

‘I can share that above information for I do not know many of you!’

My skin had become reptilian.  And, sadly, as they say owners do…I started looking like my dog.  A hound mix with jowls and an aroma sent directly from the bowels of hell.

I missed my Water-Pik.  I longed to bend over in the shower.  I begged for bathing space that accommodated persons taller than five feet tall.

Sex?  Shit, no!  Didn’t happen!  Closed for renovations!  All parties, dogs, spouse and myself, agreed there were greener sexier pastures in motel rooms without live insect audiences!

Vacation?  All I ever wanted?  Yeah, it’s what bad Kodak memories are made of.

I’m from the 70′s and you’re a 60′s bitch!

Worse for wear?  Yes, indeed.  Ridden hard and hung up wet.  I have a dent on one side of Sunshine Sally Dodge Ram from Lesbian Heaven.  It is now covered in inappropriate bumper stickers.  The UTI should clear up with antibiotics!  And, the wardrobe has doubled in size, as well as, the waistline.

No, matter, as they say, THERE WENT THE NEIGHBORHOOD

Hey let’s party

Let’s get down

Let’s turn the radio on

This is the meltdown

Get out the camera

Take a picture

The drag queens and the freaks

Are all out on the town

And cowboy Jane’s in bed

Nursing a swollen head

[Chorus]

Sunshine Sally and Peter Ustanov

Don’t like the scene any how

I crashed my tent into a swamp…I don’t care…

I dropped acid on a Saturday night

Just to see what the fuss was about

Now there goes the neighborhood

The photo chick made to look sickly

Is standing in her panties in the shower

She plays the guitar in the bathroom

While the police dust her mother’s plastic flowers

And Schoolboy John’s in jail

Making a killing through the U.S. mail

This is the movie of the screenplay

Of the book about a girl who meets a junkie.

The messenger gets shot down

Just for carrying the message to a flunkie.

We can’t be certain who the villans are ‘cuz everyone’s so pretty

But the afterparty’s sure to be a wing-ding as it moves into your

city

There goes the neighborhood