The heel of a heavy boot hangs over my head.
I wait for the steel toe to tap upon my noggin.
My stomach churns acid as if I am making butter
That is as rancid as acid rain.
I look to the sky to see if there is relief
From a God who counts every hair
Protruding from my nostrils.
A dark cloud is seen in the west.
The steel toe begins to pitter pat.
I look for distractions from my ailment,
Can’t seem to find my glasses
And where are my keys?
I appear to be a bit disoriented.
The boot is ready to pound.
I know somewhere it’s there.
Even if I can’t see it,
The boot is always there.
I just wish I did not care.