racing through the night
fast as light,
toward the great unknown,
the little acorn nut was
reminded of the old adage,
"hang on to your hat"
and so she did.


first stop was to the factory
where well crafted &
educated hands
stroked her smooth grain
& magnificent wood,
so long hidden,
standing so long un-admired.

at last the day came,
she was loaded upon the truck,
so very carefully,
gentle to not mar
nor bump,
as she was moved.

reaching the city,
all the brights lights,
the city trees dotted
the avenues
and huge grand park,
spurning the excited hi's
of this little country
bumpkin.

but she would not dally,
nor carry on, with
the highend bookcases,
chairs, tables and others,
living floor after floor
above the city.
those in the penthouses
holding the works and books,
those rubbing shoulders  
and bums,
with the highfalutin
literary few.
the poets & artists & writers
that deign to look down on
poor you.

every night,
under the light,
she laid there beaming,
her beauty so deep
for all to see,
gleaming.

no diva, nor screeching ingenue,
puffed up egotisical  baffoon,
or shrew,
could bring her down.
for she knew,
that without her,
there could be no show.
for without her,
in all her floor glory,
there simply
would be
no stage!

and the little acorn nut
was glad!

out on the road,
driving right along,
comin' to a stop,
at the head of the line,
right at the light.

i look up,
and what do i see,
but a
Big Fat Yellow face
starin' back at me.

taken aback,
reminds me,
you see,
of one
big fat bus
with a big fat yellow bootay,
only just slightly differently.

i start lookin' around
and what do i see
but a whole
bunch
of big fat yellow faces
starin' back at me.

studyin'  big fat yellow face
of bus number
eight five nine,
i begin see a difference
or two.

Some big fat yellow faces
are flat,
hardly a nose
on 'em.

Some big fat yellow faces
have quite the
shnoz on 'em,
wouldn't Jimmy Durante
be oh, so, proud.

quite an education
in just the cycle of
only one light.

it turns green,
to left i turn.

one big fat yellow face
one big fat yellow bootay

two big fat yellow faces
two big fat yellow bootays

three big fat yellow faces
three big fat yellow bootays

four big fat yellow faces
four big fat yellow bootays.

racing by so quick,
lickety split.

so how do i know,
know for sure,
that God really exists,
and even more,
that she really loves me?

if there were no God
and if she didn't love me,
i'd be starin' at all these
big fat yellow bootays
through the
front of the windshield,

instead of seeing 'em
flying into the distance
when take i a quick glance
into my REAR view mirror!

i do love the look,
of a,
Big Fat Yellow Bootay
starin' at me
from my rear view mirror,
in the mornin'!

hey, hey, hey,
just another fine day!
whadda say!

... moving along from Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay - (as the title)

She skidded
up SO close,
to that big fat bus,
with the big fat yellow bootay
that was in her way,
that no more than
the width of
a hair
stood between
em.

Long rubber tracks
and patches painting the
road.
Her tires worn thin,
she started to grin.

This big fat bus
with his big fat yellow bootay
was heard to say,

"Whoa,
slow down there little
darlin’.
What’s the big rush?
You almost crashed
into me.

And that quite possibly,
most entirely possibly,
could have,
led to
the end,
for both me,
and for you.

And by the way,
exactly where are
you supposed
to be now?

What are you doing
up in this part of town?"

Oops!
Wrong big fat bus
to be running
into.

She mumbled
her sorries,
threw herself
into reverse,
and high-tailed it
out of there
right quickity quick!

her heart was a beatin',
her heart was a poundin’,
THIS was living!
THIS is what it
felt like
to be
ALIVE!
Really alive!
and not driving along at
STINKIN'  25!