Why Does X = Cross?

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Mistaken for a missionary/ We thought that magic/ but our genuflecting didn’t play well in first class/ Our cross to bear/ Will say this, though/ The train schedule was gospel/ X’ing out each station/ and just on time

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Clever, but crap. But still finding voice (me me me ME me) to begin 30 poems in April. But I need  smoke free and because I like my doggerel tactile, I longhand the cursed verse, which leads to a ready roll or a roll your own cigarette…and that is a defeat…Oh, how I suffer.

But not as bad as those jets I abused when I used to sky on my Microsoft flight simulator. I was into Sky Kinging enough to have dropped about 500 bucks or so, for a fancy flight yoke, and third-party planes, scenery, and other ad-ons. But I never could land those heavy ass passenger buckets. Ok, I managed to porpoise into Pittsburg once, but if the manifest had been real, all passengers would be wheeled out with massive head injuries.

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What I really enjoyed about bit and byte barn storming was the steady hum drum of the engine. It seemed to act as a white noise to the motley cacophony Snz and I called our evening 300 minute cocktail hour. Which really, was more about book reading and sipping whiskey than flat out booze pounding. Set a waypoint, or randomized bad weather or mechanical failure and the “Sim” would rally me for correction which I seldom had the skill to do. Still fun, and Snz would giggle as I grappled.

Now that we are older and wiser and Apple, I from time to time X-plane via iPad, and I’m please to report my flight skills haven’t diminished an iota over time. I still suck.

 

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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