the melodies are fanatical
the harmonies are undisclosed
the rhythms are giraffes tripping

at least
that’s how it sounds to the marketplace

dreamed i was in barnes and nobles
trying to buy Boswell’s London Journal
the young clerk gave me a package
of diapers and baby powder
with boswell’s face stamped on it
"i don’t wanna wipe my ***," i told him
"i wanna read boswell’s london journal"
dreams!

heard about the doctor running for the hospital elevator?
the doors were closing so he stuck his head in
decapitated
which is shocking enough
but imagine the folks inside the elevator

jimmy page had a sitar before the beatles
but couldn’t figure out how to tune it
see, being a beatle pays off
you can have the world’s greatest sitar master
give you tuning tips
all jimmy page had for guidance
was a billion groupies

drop a spoon, you’re getting company
drop a fork, you’ll have a fight
asinine superstitions
instilled in me by my mother
probably out of the boredom of being a mom
but almost everything we believe is baloney
so who knows
and now i dropped a fork AND a spoon
so someone’s coming over to punch me

i was an ***** player for a talk show in the southside
one night while tanking up preshow at a poolhall down the block
i snooped a conversation about a stripper birthday party
currently in progress at mcardles pub
mcardles being a bar on an alley in the southside
i made haste for the stripper party
though i didn’t know which alley to head for
alas, mcardles pub stayed aloof
i was toasted and the southside got bigger
with talkshow time only an hour away
then 45 minutes, then half an hour
and i couldn’t find mcardles
many alleys, all blind, no mcardles
no strippers, no off-duty pulchritude
finally, in despair, i surrendered
went to the lava lounge, plugged in my *****
painted my face and put on an indian headdress
i sang "piece of my heart"
sharing my misery with the audience
(yes we had an audience, a good one)
when i was done our mc alexie said
"he looks like one of the village people
but he sang the **** out of that song
let’s hear it for unfinished symphonies"
yeah let’s hear it for me
taking pieces of my ***** heart
and throwing them at the happy drunken
coked-up ladies at mcardles invisible pub

on the one hand
i missed every boat
on the other
they all sank