dark. early morning sunrise still trying to make it's way up to be seen. crunchy frost on the grass to my left. river gliding past quietly. intent on making it's escape to the ocean as stealthy as possible. man walking. stumbling. talking, along the bike path. he's muttering about his wife and continues to talk to nobody but the ghosts in his head. 40 ounce bottle of the crooked eye cradled in his arm like a baby. coming upon the wife now. she is pantless down on the bank yelling at the river. she turns to the tree next to her with madness in her eyes and starts yelling that "she has a gun". notice the dog off leash now. dog is running around and gyrating like an epileptic emu. notice the copped over form of a dude squatting in the middle of the paved path. see the steaming accumulation piling up between his feet. pulls up his coveralls in a panic. executes a hand wipe and flick. rubs hands on crunchy, frosted grass. mutters. i dodge the dog. i dodge the pile. i dodge the dog...again. overtake phantom shitter and pass without incident. just when i think i'm in the clear and home free, a nutrea darts off the bank right into my feet and down goes frazier!
quality. hank would turn this 10 miler into song lyrics.