Thunder PantsToo bad I was your Rembrandt in waitingThough you sensed you were Ms ConvenienceSo many days in a chamber debatingInstead of between sheets of SalinasThere you go again Mount Vesuvius – in your handsManufacturing painEmphatically – Thunder Pants(your cross you bear is burning dangerously near)(Here seeking comfort from anxiety wizened)So soon the ejector seat after the thrillBrings the acid to the back of your teethYou can’t let it go like a Janice girlSo it’s almost time to lay a wreathA rational man would cut you deadBut testosterone makes fools of the bestSometimes it seems that you’re talking niceBut I know it’s the crack end of the benchIt’s a midday roast and my tongue is dryAnticipating that rapier sledge