I like to think big thoughts,
but when I tie my brain in knots,
I eat a couple tater tots.
Who was best? The Sultan of Swat?
Maybe he was - maybe not.
I'm not sure, but if you ask me, man,
my money's on Ohtani from Japan.
If you think my poems ain't good enough,
consider that I know lots of stuff -
like: there's no fruit more popular than a
orange, an apple, or a banana.
I think it would be really neat
to have suction cups for feet,
I would not be limited, anymore,
to walking only on the floor.
Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall,
I'd stroll the ceiling and the wall.
Everyone would fall in love
with me as I look down from above,
knowing I will never drop
as my feet loudly pop, pop, pop.
I dreamt of Babe Ruth
in Howard Johnsons'
lighted pool doing
the backstroke so brilliantly.
No bats lying around
anywhere. warm water
reflected dorsal pecs,
beautiful biceps, round
spiral muscles fanning
along so softly.
Finally finding the nerve
to say: Babe! your a
ballplayer; Sultan of swat.
Smiling at me timidly:
I'm a ballplayer and a
a swimmer. He replied
calmly gliding away.
A swan in the moonlight.
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