just float me

this damp old house needed help, but the basement was quiet like a desert.it never occurred to me to go swimming.I wanted to dream of schlitz and the old boathouse.when I die just float me in the boathouse with a rusty motor and some ravioli. just plop em in, dont be shy.Lately the a-team pinball just stretched days into weeks and I played and dreamed of half-hearted attempts to make it down the road to the old pub. the couch smelled like red lifesavers and dogshit. was danny's 4 wheeler still operable?that dusty shack with shit living in it, oh shit yeah you need a fucking rifle to prowl in that old screwy greasy tool hut made for snakes and wild cats.a hundred coffee cans with nails rested on cobwebbed sills.I glanced down to see an ripped bazooka wrapper with that idiot and his eyepatch.Steam rose up from the campground near the water amidst the morning fog….I could just see clemmy's maniacal gums bouncing, racing, on a burnt slimy kiver-- the pond water shooting and dribbling over his mess of dead white chin hair, his head bobbing like the tall wobbly, weathered skull it was...and that bucket...