It’s a holy illustrious think tank scuba dive roll call bebop
sock hop poontang spoonbill screwball ragtop type of a walk,
but it gets me where I’m going and that’s what counts.
Hungry on a lark, stop in at the dog park for a dog bark
revitalizing yip yap and woof warp arf barf and bowwow.
Scuze me and scuze you too, sliding sidewise swigging booze,
doing the ocean roll on rock solid streets of gold
that could be hurling us off if they had the urge you know.
No stately clockwork tick-tock for me and my limbs.
Down will come baby cradle and all just you wait and see.
written 1986