You are as even tempered as a frying pan
In a sudden downpour 
A campsite in disarray 
A long time coming
Laughter from two yards over 
The neighborhood a claim on space
Involving multiple parties

It must be Father’s Day 
Judging by the heightened attentions of daughters and sons 
Thus a man enjoys solitude, stillness, pink petals of the carrier rose
And in a certain light 
The sonic continuum of tires against the road 
The sensation of being carried along toward the end of a sentence
After the disappearance of the period

Air to breathe, water to drink 
The suggestion box is empty 
Obsolete equipment piles up in nooks and crannies
This is all wrong, that’s messed up 
We go on in and make ourselves comfortable 
The movie has just begun 
It’s Nick and Nora Charles and their little dog Asta

They’re visiting Nick’s parents in the suburbs 
He’s on the wagon and trying to keep a low profile 
But of course she brags about him to the local paper 
And soon he’s embroiled in detective work despite himself
There is crime everywhere, even here in the suburbs 
It must be human nature
Desperate characters on the loose

“Yoke yourself to your strongest conviction”
Was a piece of advice derived from the Y in JOY
But Pam doesn’t buy that 
And I say it sounds too slavish 
Remember the Groucho line 
“These are my principles
If you don’t like them I have others”

When the pen runs out of ink 
You simply replace the cartridge 
And continue writing 
To the sound of jet planes overhead 
It’s time to revive the typewriter 
For the benefit of kids 
Now entering the ranks of the scribe force

Sliding the paper under the roller 
Striking the surface with heavy metal blows 
History curls right into the future 
A Möbius strip 
That brings bygone media around and back 
With all the drama, character, sound, light and destiny
Alive in an imagination of living

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