My Little Feet

All of a sudden (upon
    immediately arising refreshed,
     whar these lovely
     bones did not ache

getting shut eye lasting
     amply time for
     fatigue to brake,
     long enough for tear ducts

     to generate sandy granule
     size piece smaller
     than a Jimmie
     sprinkled atop piece of cake

an inexplicable fanciful
     notion gripped me
     to circumnavigate the globe
(then during or after

     write a poem or journaled)
     possibly like Sir Francis Drake
who lived (circa 1540 –
     28 January 1596)

alight to adventure found
     yours truly though
     no longer tired
     i.e. once adequately

     rested and awake,
(despite sleeping respite
     did reckon asthma
     second daily nap

     no...no...no...,this not "FAKE)"
ah ran to the community room,
     cuz sigh did hanker for coffee,
     sans one of the (perky,

     finely grounded, Earthy)
     residents, who faintly resembled
     a Minnesotan from Land o Lake
did brew, filter, and invoke love

     said coffee she did make,
tubby extra sure boundless energy
would keep me alert for:
     long day's journey into night

and while walking briskly
(this took about a bajillion
     orbitz round the sun,
cuz ah...unfairly small feet

     for this opaque
     grown man hoop ping to partake
of sipping a hot cup of Joe,
     (despite the outside temperature

     feeling like a bajillion degrees -
     courtesy of global warming)
mouth (analogous to
     the dog of Pavlov)

     started to salivate
for desperate caffeinated
     thirst to slake
after a couple swallows...

     ah (no idea why butta)
     Zarathustra channeled
     thru me didst spake.