I’ve always been happy about the fact that whatever other stupid shit I may have been guilty of, I never wrote the kind of self-indulgent “poetry” that makes me want to smack every skinny jean wearing haiku-spouting hipster I meet in the face with a potato.

Until now.

I am going into hiding, pending the arrival of a barrage of potatoes headed in my direction. Until I return (post potato-fusillade), please enjoy tolerate this verse, about Looking back on my Twenties

twenties were messy apartments, late mornings
lazy afternoons, crazy nights, hazy sunrises
rooftop beers with friends, ideas and bubbly pipes

The Thirties are going to be awesome…