Confusaled.

I sit here vapid, eyes sting a gentle tingle
from my shirt and pants waves of
gasoline - 92 mid-grade
toxicate my personal space
like a ring of Saturn's aura

My appearance is business casual
with brightly combed teeth and pasted hair
my pants and shirt ward off vampires
as they lurk in the distance as usual

Nigh early this morn' on toward my toil
commandeering said vessel and
posing as Mr. Business Casual
with brightly teeth and pasty hair
I stopped in at the local station
to fill auto's tank of said petrol
I felt so good, as I lifted my gaze from from the bubbling tint
of my car's rear window;
I pulled back my arm

This arm of mine gripping pump nozzle
let an explosion of liquid
like a garden hose hiccup
most of which hit the car and asphalt
however, enough wetted my shirt,
I was tempted to spark
a match and have myself go off
like the Science class Bunsen burner

But the stump pumping fuel adjacent
did not look capable of stress and a calm
phone call to nine eleven
as her overdone hair
hardly compensated for her pear shape
and flaring calfs, which struggled mightily
to get out of their tattoo
of snakes, skulls and feathers

I am confused, not by the gas or tattoos
but by my heels
3 out of 4 days have been nothing
short of fantastic
I am in utter bewilderment
as one of those days the heel flared-up
like gasoline off the side of my car's wheel well.

Saturday I ran a tempo
the warm-up a divine graceless meander
the warm-down was pain less and the murder section
a 30 minute steady, rhythmic cadence

Last night extricating paint from my steps
made of concrete, headless bugs and wings
I spent whiling hours power washing
and the birds chirped themselves to death
gotten by swarthy crows and graying squirrels
The heat gun was super useless
as the neighbour and his top-heavy wife
nattered about their garden tool shed
killing suburban heaven like a 2 stroke
oily power tool engine
while my heels quietly disturbed me lying in wait
caste in boots, rigid
and healing my heels as I scraped at the paint