When you meet a poet
outside G&L's in Muskegon, Michigan,
where all the poets eat
the best goddamn chili dogs
anyone has ever had,
do as all the people do,
and say: Hey, what's up, dude?
If that fuckin' poet don't say,
Sister, I got just the song for you
right here in my back pocket --
and whip out one hell of a song --
if that poet don't do that,
fuck him or her
and the horse they rode in on.
They ain't worth the chili dog
they just ate.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment