strange happenings on the 15th street bridge

on my way
up
now
i been down that way
before
no more
not again
till someday
i
dream i met
a strange
yet softly accentuated
case of the german
measels
in a park
on 59th street
wearin a hat
& a buddha shirt
yellin about equality
& peace
an not makin shoes that fit
but tryin t make do anyway
with what i got
a stick o gum
& a toy soldier
named Edwin
met him in th war
saved is life
with a rifle
an a tube o toothpaste
he gave me
a cup o teeth
an asked fer my name
i told im Captain Kidd
he believed me but he
wanted t know what
exactly that i did
i said i worked late
at th post office
filin returns
and openin shipments
o penicilen
& tarantula venom
to give to Children's Charities
around the corner
on the corner o
th boardwalk
they aint got no sign
so i made one up
it said “Jangle”
an it had a 60-year-old dutch buccaneer painted on it
i thought it was dashing
they took my pencils an
robbed my socks
tellin me it was fer th best
makin odd gestures
at my hat
impolite
in the company of a sofa
i said as much an they threw me in th gutter
i got up
walked up
stood up
up straight
back straight
legs movin
feet pumpin
hands sailin
eyes bakin
brain bubblin
toes chasin
stomach writin
fingers pushin
nose jerkin
till i got home
an found
id been
evicted
from my humble
abode
above the penitentiary
an below th
prison
so i walked away
legs switchin
when i jumped on
a cabbie man
he was
stumblin along
lucky t be alive
carryin my typesets
havin fun with em
dancin
shakin
tryin t explain t his feet how t stand up th ground
so i pushed im down
down far
a long way
t the center o
th sun
an took my wallet
from is grave
on Mount Olympus
on the sixth day o May
by the fireside
i saw
in my eyes
a light
both large an small
terrible
frightenin as it were
combin my hair
an makin trouble with my boots
sendin me on down th line
to a place they call Nebraska
where i runned over a woodchuck
with a steamroller
then went back
an
finished the job
with an envelope
& a rusty jar o
toothpaste
that i found
on th ground
while lookin for my
car
in the sewer
fer my drivin lessons
with Merle P. Whitley
the best driver in north america
who'd be in town for one day
till two days
an id show im
a carnival
an let im wonder
if th games could be won
but he didn't go
laryngitis got im
at 56
he couldn't sing
just howl
like a dog
hangin upside down
in the cockpit
of a 747
flyin along
makin good time
only to see
no end in sight
but by the time
he saw
that was
his
fate
he knew he was
bound to it
as sure as sure
an didn't argue
just let me walk on his back
on stilts
makin average airfare
with scientific data on
polar bears
makin headlines round the globe
an eatin geraniums
off th floor
o the cabin
in th woods
in mississippi
sendin three pies home a day
tell me, momma
what is it?
what's wrong with
you
this time?

 

I knew it was over yer heads :tongue: