I
found your map, holy smokes,
A
leather map?
A
surely-and-truly leather-map?
O, that crusty parchment,
The
inked lines, rough roads
Crawl the wrinkled surface
And
wherever we may go.
I
walked ten-thousand miles.
I
didn't take a step.
I
started walking ten years
Before
you were born.
I
won't take my first step
Until
your father strikes
That
story in the final song.
I
liked your dad. We had
No
use for one another.
We
had many a-scotch and song together.
He
bought every single glass. Not all
Is
what I meant to say. In fact,
Yes,
he bought me every drink.
Unlatch the kitchen window,
Unlock your bedroom door.
Tonight I'll sing a song
Your
father never learned.
1 comment:
A broke-healed trumpet player (formerly of the Strays Cats) walks into a bar under the Vicksburg bridge to Louisiana where a dwarf is tending bar. The trumpet player says "what do I have to blow to get a drink in this place?" The dwarf says "how about a medley of 'Cry Me A River and "You Don't Miss Your Water?" The trumpet player says "you got yourself a deal. But could you do me a favor? See, I got this poison ivy rash on my balls and it sure does itch som'n fierce. Do you think you could scratch it for me while I toot the old horn?" The dwarf says "sure," comes out from behind the bar and scratches the trumpeter's balls with a rolled up Penthouse while he does his thing. The trumpeter's about halfway through the song when he stops suddenly. "Why'd you stop?" the dwarf asks. "Well," says the trumpet player, "the thing is is that I got all these mosquito bites on my ass and they sure do itch sum'n fierce. Do you think you could scratch em for me while I finish this fine medley?" The dwarf says "sure" and scratches his ass with a rolled up Legshow magazine while the trumpet player does more of his thing. He finishes the song and says "boy, I sure did work up a powerful thirst. How about I get that drink you promised?" The dwarf says"sure, but could you do me a favor? I have trouble reaching the liquor bottles on account of my small stature, do you think you could come back here and help me?" The trumpeter says "sure" and comes behind the bar. "Whiskey ok?" he says. "Whatever you like," says the dwarf. "Good," says the trumpeter. "It's like my pa always said, there's nothin like a little whiskey before you make love to a dwarf." The dwarf, clearly agitated, says "hey mister, I think you got the wrong idea. I only scratched your ass and balls because you asked me." "Of course I asked," replied the trumpeter. "I'm a gentleman aren't I?" The bar was quiet as the last commuters headed home to their lovers, families, or to their crushing solitude, all of which afforded them reasons to meander back into the bridge bar nightly, as if in a trance. The moonlight spilled over the barges some distance up the river, pooling in the place where one had sunk just three days ago.
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