Phil, Amongst the Coyotes

        Ray Manzerak is dead. I sent a text to Bill the Google Master that said, "rest in peace Ray." He sent me a text back, "we'll all be hunched over our instruments one day." That's happening to me now, I thought.
           I'm going into the studio tomorrow to record vocals for a song I've been working on for months. I don't have John Lennon's bank account so I can't book time the way I'd like to. Soon I'll be mixing the song. I've been listening to All Things Must Pass, to study what the masters did with their mixes. George Harrison and Phil Spector. It's a shame about Phillip. He's a good argument for gun control.
            I live in a neighborhood with a lot of coyotes and today I wondered if the coyotes think of dogs who are on walks as prisoners. I imagined the coyotes standing on a hill and muttering to themselves there goes another prisoner when they see a dog on a leash.
            They get an hour of yard time, one would say to the other. It's hard labor.
            I'm glad I'm not a prisoner, the other coyote would mumble under his breath.
            Hey wait a minute. On second thought, that dog looks well fed. He looks downright chubby to me. He's not skipping any meals that's for sure. His coat looks full and healthy. What do I have to do to become a prisoner? What laws do I have to break? How can I run afoul?
            I know how you can get a death sentence. Eat a Terrier.

Dear Bottom

            Dear Bottom. I miss you. My pants miss you, and my belt has informed me that he has to hold on for dear life just to keep the pants from sagging.
            I realize that I never really had you, but for the brief spell when I played basketball once a week with the neighborhood kids at Carlin G. Smith recreational center. But still, I want you back. I don't necessarily want to work hard to get you back. It would be nice if you showed yourself with the mild intermittent exercise that I do, the occasional knee bends, the moon light walks. Don't make me run for you, please anything but that. I'd consider a quick sprint on the beach, but the idea of distance makes me think of hard work and discipline, and that doesn't sound like fun.