SONNET DARE: In Which I Plan My Annual Hasty Escape From Cheyenne

Cheyenne is where I live and work, but lo:
Each summer comes a time when it's like hell.
At first in June the streets are torn up so
That bike commuting's best, though a hard sell
For folks who love their pickups as these do.
Post-haste a summer's worth of work is done
In preparation for an onslaught. Coo!
Frontier Days brings all, under one hot sun,
That I like least about Wyoming life:
Fake cowboys, amateur drunks, strafing planes,
Loud music that goes twang and redneck strife
(Thanks, Walter, for this dare to list my banes).
At least it leaves the mountains free for those
Who like Wyoming for its sweet repose.

In Which Snack Foods Are Weaponized

The first news which did penetrate my brain
Through its thick haze of sleeplessness (the pug,
My houseguest, ne'er did think to deign
To let me catch some Zs) hit like a drug.
In Tennessee, a couple's fight took place
In which the so-called weapon of their choice
Was Cheetos. Once we learned of this disgrace
The race was on among us all to voice
Opinions on how Cheetos could be used
To do real harm. In powder form, perhaps
And blown into the eyes? Mashed up and fused
Into a bludgeon? Up the nose? No maps
Exist for such a territory -- well, I hope.
But now we're poised upon a slipp'ry slope.