yanks tigers not lookin so good
as we like to say
Haiku:
Yesterday
Yanks 8, tigers 4
Mudville joy
my early morning on the way to work activity has inspired a song - country western - or so it seems to me - not my usual style - but not my usual early morning activity: hope ya all can imagine a nice melody and harmonies to sing along!
"Parking Here Fella Gonna Cost Ya Big Time"
A lovely morning, just past dawning in the city,
I took my car out for an early morning spin,
Called up my girlfriend on the cell phone using handsfree,
Stopped at the yellows, waived as school guards waved at me.
Thought -it's so nice out- let me bring my girl some breakfast,
I’ll run inside there, grab a coffee- donut too;
Put on my flashers - kept a sharp eye out the window,
I was so happy, coffee flowing, cake for two.
Well then I stepped outside with package smelling nicely,
Holding that little cardboard tray with two cups neat,
When out of nowhere formed the image of a fellow
Flashing some paper, smiling meekly, saying sweet:
“Can’t put a Chevy near the bevy of my meter,
Can’t put your old Dodge at the curb, its just the same,
Can’t park a Honda with a blond-uh at the corner,
I'm writing tickets, that’s the name of my game.
Can’t rest a big Ford with a wood cord near the curbside,
And for a Toyota with a boat – uh it’s the same,
Can’t park a Caddy with your daddy in the back seat
I'm writing tickets son and this one's got your name.”
The coffee flavor dropped a notch or two believe it,
The pastry tasted kinda pasty in my mouth,
The coffee cup seemed slightly hotter in my fingers
I stored the car and went to work heading due south.
So now I’m sitting at my desk and working harder,
And earning money just to pay my ticket soon,
But in my head keep running words I cannot stifle
Those words that floated toward my ear well before noon:
“Can’t put a Chevy near the bevy of my meter,
Can’t put your old Dodge at the curb, its just the same,
Can’t park a Honda with a blond-uh at the corner,
I'm writing tickets, that’s the name of my game.
Can’t rest a big Ford with a wood cord near the curbside,
And for a Toyota with a boat – uh it’s the same,
Can’t park a Caddy with your daddy in the back seat
I'm writing tickets son and this one's got your name.”
not much to say
time is a wasting
and no time to play
wonderful feeling wonderful day
plenty of sunshine heading my way
long before the night is over
but still before dawn
mornng time still
california in my mind
don't ya just hear the raindrops
don't ya just hear the sounds a yes
i'm going to california in my mind
where the hell is everyone?
here i am in fucking NJ
riding down the jersey turnpike
its dark
the ezpass lane is flashing
and i'm on ezpass street
and what the heck is it doing outside
no one nearby is dressed in camouflage but i can see them still
hiding along the steel guard rails
to keep me in line
i see them left and right
and crawling up behind me
slithering bumper guards
positioning themselves closer than before
pushing up against my car
my bumper is scratched now
bent out of shape
by what?- by pressure?- fuck pressure.
Who stands bowed by pressure in a free world?
freedom oh freedom
choices, free will and dishwashing detergent in clear bottles
where the color of the soap can be changed at will
i say change the color of the bottle and leave the soap alone
this is America
we'll sing seventh inning oh beautifuls
hosannas until the yankees score some more runs
and the game is over
the world series heads home
and we can feel jilted by the taxi radio
playing shit but finding no baseball anymore
we're lost
anchorless in a slithering stream
do you trust the mooring? can you grab it with all your might and hold tight
and pull and pull and pull and stay afloat
or is it a drifting sinker in the end
i don't want to hear time will tell
i don't have that kind of time
i'm not a dog remember
tuesday is monday now
closer closer closer
but i need tuesday to slip over now and be tuesday
i need wednesday to be wednesday
and i need thursday to follow after all that arranging
i don't want to change my shoes
and i dont want to move my saddle
from one horse to another to another to another
to another to another to another
to another to another
to my mother to her mother to her mother to her mother before her
and to my father before her
tomorrow is today and coming fast and i have miles to go before i sleep
and it is not yet dawn
the sun also rises
and will the son?
"sleeeeeep"
he hears
"sleeeeeep"
it is the dawn
the sky is dark he wrote as a child
when the dawn was colder
and more shocking
and stranger than it is now
when the sky was green instead of blue
and when innocence and promise were all that lay ahead
things happen when we sleep
let me get more.
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