#96: Hey Dude, It's Just An Attitude! (Optimism)

So, You Might Think Your Mind Is Spongy . . .
Or Buried Deep Beneath The Dunjy,
Where All The Mold And Filth And Fungee
Consider You A Food Thing,
But You Will Learn That Pluck And Plungy
Suited Doer, Or The Grungy,
Dude That Follows Ola Tungy
Can Turn To Bright Whatever's Skungy,
With Nothing But A Mood Swing.

We'd just hopped back into our seats.
The Buggy took to flight.
I didn't even have a chance
to pull the hatch down tight.

The same old flotsam and debris
slapped the hood and grill . . .
but every crash excited us,
and seemed to bring a thrill.

The ride was fast, but as we slowed,
I saw the sky turn red.
We came to rest in the middle of
a giant flower bed.

The door had never really shut,
and now was open wide.
I heard Jo-Mima breathing deep
as he took a step outside.

"Well, I think we've made it to the land
of roses," Jo-Mima said . . .
and, just as I was stepping out
into that world of red.

A little walk from our landing hill,
we found a tower built
with flights of stairs to a platform where
a painted sign read, "Hilt!"

As Jo and I surveyed the work
of tower carpenters,
a man walked by a spoke to us . . .
"Fine day for conquerors."

We felt no sense of urgency,
and certainly weren't sure,
where in the world we'd come to rest,
or what we'd got there for.

So, we skipped the climb and moseyed on,
begging constant pardon
of all the smiling folks who filled
the pathways of the garden.

Then we came upon a monument that
we couldn't ascertain.
It seemed to be in honor of
a locomotive train.

An inscription carved into its base
showed workmanship and care,
"I think I can, I think I can . . .
pull us all up there."

I raised myself on tippy-toes
to get a better look
at the endless gardened artworks in
every crannied nook.

We saw some sculptures of raising flags . . .
of mighty walls come down . . .
of victories in battles, and . . .
we heard the trumpets sound.

Something stirred inside me, but
I still could not make out
exactly what the lesson of
this State was all about.

Jo then called attention to
something further on . . .
it was the sweetest smelling cauldron,
just bubbling in the ground.

As we walked up, the steam that rose,
like smoke from sugar's flame,
filled our heads with powerful dreams,
and will to win the game.

I backed away, with gritted teeth,
and yelled a primal yell.
Jo-Mima jumped and did a twist,
and shook his fist at Hell.

"We're champions, and we'll destroy
every foe we meet,"
Jo-Mima screamed at the heart of Earth . . .
and we both stomped our feet.

Then, that first intoxicating breath
began to fade away,
and we noticed that we couldn't see
through the steamy gray.

And, without a word, without a sound,
we walked some further on . . .
around that giant cauldron's base
to see what lay beyond.