Tea Party of Northern Colorado

That man behind the golden specs may not be the man you think.<br> He is not yours; he is not God's or State's. Not postmodernistic,<br> as those the colleges pump out like seed, he's anachronistic,<br> in his love of laissez faire and the huge high sunset sky of pink. Lecturing on Lorca in Lima or the Physiocrats<br> in France, he’s seen it all, from here to the Ivory Coast.<br> He's so amped, with such indefatigability, that he almost<br> never sleeps. He haunts the city streets and all-night laundromats.<br> Possesses memory to burn, can be argumentative.<br> Loathes all progressive, egalitarian, socialistic thought.<br> Blue-collar to the bone, thinking man knows a little about a lot:<br> Autodidactic worker, polyphiloprogenitive.<br> For years he’s lived on books, black coffee, the breathing bell above.<br> Nothing gets to him like the so-called hypothetical.<br> An American thinker, he’s inherently ascetical -<br> atheist, yes, but versed in Christ, whose symbol is the dove.<br> Self-mortification was at one time his vessel against the flesh.<br> His soul, then, seemed to him stretched across those empty skies at night<br> that drain behind the city blocks and tangerine city light.<br> The ship of his body pierced the sucking waves that beat and thresh.<br> Still, thinking man always lights the puma lady's cigarette.<br> Manners (like goodness, which is absolute) never go out of date.<br> And yet when the October night comes crashing down like a metal gate,<br> sadness invariably strikes; the feline makes him sweat.<br> <br> As the body without the spirit is dead because the two enmesh<br> (when has something born not died? what lives? and when will <em>you</em> exist?),<br> so the human brain <em>thinks,</em> that the body might also persist.<br> Thinking man, you’re physical in the end, as is the way of all flesh.<br>