Peter Gammons Pocket Poetry

Some days, we make Peter Gammons tweets looks pretty funny; some days, Peter Gammons makes the funny for us. And then he reaches into our souls with shaky thumbs, and brushes off the cobwebs to flip the rusty lever to make us think and to ponder and to trouble over our own and very and uniquely terrifying existence.

Today is the second day — the day where that thinking crap happens. After the laughing bit:

I’m on an elliptical right now, but have been slowed by glute pull that won’t go away and hurts my back. You’re in Jupiter

— Peter Gammons (@pgammo) February 18, 2012

, not Orlando?

— Peter Gammons (@pgammo) February 18, 2012

If this accidental poetry does not tug on your heartstrings, festoon your soul with sparkling, golden laughter and secret, shimmering and crimson red regrets — secret pains about secret problems you feel shameful to tell your deepest most dear friends and loved ones — if these two tweet poems do not do all this, then check your heart, man. Or woman. Because the cybermen may have replaced the beating muscle of your existence with a tuft of wiring and cold steel. Just like in that distressing dream I just awoke from.

Also, Glute is a butt muscle… BUTT JOKE! (Discuss.)

A gentleman’s bow, courtly and obliquely disdainful, towards the shareful Yirmiyahu.