Ugh!
“Hey Fat!!! Sit down and shut up!”
starts with butter on the butter on the corn
half-baked concepts dragging from the board ‘cross the floor
up to my pen. . . damn, this Prof. got two, too many blackboards
she wasn’t looking at my feet when she said, “Size doesn’t matter”
“Is that your tuba?”
bring back the bumper sticker, I want: “Baby I’m Bored”
take the nearest bus, a street-whale lobtailing curbs
turn up your iPod and mosquito ‘em all
nothing like that tin sound in the a.m. to make murderers of us all
“Bum a smoke?”
sometimes all that’s required is rust
yup, I worry about that pair of shoes I threw out back in ‘82
are they cursing me for being next to whatever’s in that plastic container that’ll be here a
thousand years from now?
“Gotta do the floors.”
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