Another installment, fresh off the 11:55 hotplate:
Dalton slowed to a crawl and then just veered right,
Just missing a fenceline, though the space was quite tight.
Craig, nearly done, threw his arms up in glee,
And crossed over the line just happy as can be.
...TO BE CONTINUED...
So this James Bond tractorpull event is really turning out to be one of my favorite assignments of the semester - I mean, really, what better time is there in this life when all one has to dwell on (for a grade) is James Bond - one of the sexiest and most lethal of human weapons - and the good old American sport of tractor pulling...? I've had fun thus far, and can only imagine how much more fun I'm going to have over the next month or two to really round out a good poem for the ages.
At this point, it seems that Daniel Craig, the blond newcomer of the Bonds, is set to take the title. It may end up that way, but the poem still has quite a bit more to go before I'll be comfortable calling it 'done.' We need to finish some of the character development, mend some inter-Bond relationship gaps and feuds, and show just how conniving and ingenious these old codgers can really be. I mean, how can I stop at this point when we've barely heard each of the Bonds utter more than a sentence or two? While I've got six stars of the Bond name and from the silver screen at my beck and call, I'm going to take full advantage of it, you better believe me!
Continue watching, or reading rather, to see what's going to happen. I apologize for a light week of additional poem content, but this week (and maybe next!) have been wearing heavy on the brain-piece. I promise more exciting installments in the near future!
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