a hoar frost

There is a hoar frost covering most everything outside chateau de Clinch this morning.

I’m sure that prompts most of you to say, “He said ‘whore.’”

Which is not exactly true. I said hoar, not whore. A whore is a woman who sucks you until juice comes out. A hoar frost is a white coating all over everything that almost looks like a dusting of snow. A hoar frost is so thick it makes everything outside on a winter’s morning look ancient. A few of you are probably going to remind me when a whore pulls out a split second early she gets a white coating on her and sometime that can make her look ancient.

Damn it! Will you please get whores off your mind? Is that all you ever think about?

The hoar frost covers everything like a coat of fresh paint, only not smooth and glossy. It’s like when you paint something without sanding it first, figuring the paint will cover the flaws. Then, after the paint dries, you look at it and say, shit, I should have sanded that first. Later today the sun will come out and the frost will be gone and everything will be back to normal, but for the time being I’ll look outside, drink coffee and say to myself that everything looks pretty and white.

See! Dick Clinch has a sensitive side. I’m not all shock and awe. You’ll notice I didn’t even say, “fuck” once. Oops! I just did, didn’t I?

It just goes to show you that a brother can have the eye of an artist and the sensitivity of a poet and be the bad ass responsible for defining the new world order.

Or my name isn’t Dick Clinch.