Would you like to know how?  I wrote you a poem.

No pain, no gain!
Push that body OVER THE EDGE!
Take a deep breath. It's the last one you'll have for the next 90 minutes.
I want to see you DRIPPING sweat! Your mat better be a
Slip 'N Slide when we're done. Capeesh?
Pick up your free weight and cram it into your jaw.  Yes, it's gluten-free.
Everyone should have two straps-- they're both for self-flagellation.
Go ahead, primal scream. No one can hear you, honey. I locked the doors.
Next pose is called ROID RAGE WARRIOR!
Every morning I get up at 4 a.m. and drink a smoothie made out of two Hungry Man tv dinners, protein powder, and a very bloody steak!
I can't explain any of my bruises!  It's weird!
But I  can explain the one you're about to get right now.
Your job is to do what I say! My job is to hurt you!
Your knees should be OUT OF THEIR SOCKETS!
More! Harder! Fifty reps, NOW!
FEEL. THE. BURN.

My heart to yours, namaste. ​

A Twinkie
sliced sharply on the diagonal.
Voila!  
Upward mobility.  

​On Saturdays I like to plug in my Orchard Mist air freshener,
crank up the sun lamp,
apply a few coats of self tanner,
and enjoy a little something from the freezer with
exactly 7.4 grill marks.

​As I shot down the highway, a strange feeling washed over me
and I suddenly became aware that I was flanked on either side by two cops.
They rode next to me for miles upon miles,
silently
no siren
then bobbed through the sea of cars and disappeared down wispy off-ramps
in a sublime display of mist and haze.

So I think I know a thing or two about swimming with dolphins.

​You
half asleep or half awake
Eyes like pistachios.
I want to crack open your shell.

"A lot of pets look like their owners."

​What I try to forget each morning
as I walk past the new neighbor's pot-bellied dog 
lounging on his driveway 
in a greasy turtleneck sweater 
and
no 
pants.

Aloha!
We interrupt this Hawaiian reggae version of Manic Monday to bring you a LAVA FLOW UPDATE:

Like the eyes of the Mona Lisa, the lava is always following you
​No matter where you go. It's magic.

Cruising at 23 mph in my sick Chevrolet Spark or Equivalent
Wearing my Christmas tree auto air freshener around my neck because *BLING*. 
(Surprise! Smells like spam.)

So many key chains-- palm trees, dolphins, a pair of tiny sandals.
​But where can I find a keepsake of the adorable crackheads on the corner 
Selling pit bull puppies?

A post-apocalyptic movie where the volcano starts spewing 
  throngs of older Caucasion men dressed as Trader Joe's cashiers.

Hokey poke
Loco moco

Folks,
Should you feel ill, this helicopter is equipped with 

Aloha Bags.
​

​It's pitch dark.

Something soft and warm has a cruel vice grip on my head.
It has invaded my nostrils and ears.
I scream but it's a weak muffled moan,
not nearly enough to be rescued from this indignity.
Suffocation is imminent.

My arms are splayed in awkward vertical slings,
and I'm swift stumbling around the house like a rabies raccoon,
then slumped on the floor in surrender, wondering how it got so bad so fast.

​I was only trying to get dressed.

​- Odyssey of the Turtleneck, Act 2

​The sound of your slacks crescendoing outside my office door.
​Pfft. Pfft. Pfft.
​Soon I will minimize my browser.