of running into the
strangest people in greasy
spoons he had a
british accent claiming to
come from houston in
search of love saying
"john lennon was starved
for affection just soaked
to the bone in
zen yoko ono had
him in it up
to his elbows
he managed a hotel
with the shadow of
keith richards needle in
a haystack laughing that
"man, if this were
groundhogs day" coming
in spurts known as
the four seasons we
all have an unchained melody
he had felt that
and breathed a sigh
of relief as big
as rabelais referring to
johnny carson as that
grinning bastard who hadn't
tipped him in 1966
in detroit that morning
he’d forgotten to carry
up his bag the
world had stood still
but he was shaking
asking for another cup
of coffee black please
and a ride to
sandusky "oh terry
my friend to spin
that ferris wheel one
just more time is
but heaven at my
feet those were the
mystery movies of our
lives" he screamed "carson
never understood that the
music was in him
he started the cuban
missle crisis with a
wink he made for
such a fucked up
willie wonka" if there
hadn't already been a
comic book he would've
been the joker snorting
cocaine out of the
big dipper with lenny
bruce as the sun
came up he could
hear the walrus moaning to
anne frank "we were
wise beyond our years"
as she sang him
to sleep holding
on for dear life
to his
dreams