I really never was one to
worry about dreams or where they could
take me for the longest time I was under the
impression and of a firm confession that
I was nothing more than a
worthless piece
of

ozark
mountain
drudgery swept about
on a faded prairie but after rolling
back a few pages of particulars I figured I'd

take the opportunity to experience some of
that excitement again and so it
was that while
recanting
not one
but
far
too
many
late hour
inconveniences
discovered a major portion
of youthful vigor had been in time not so
well spent so after a little editing through useless miseries
that crunched with bite your fingernail anxiety I figured I'd take a detour
around the particulars what could anyone say living was young and the easy
scene at the market place was hoppin’ you know the places designer jeans
alcohol discotheques where night lights set every possible mood
and everybody you know is living on the edge

of course I was on a borderline
between cognizance and well I had a graveyard job
punching a time-clock that had been so well weathered that I
wondered how many greasy hands pushed it in and out never
mind what they could've been thinking we were known as
rent-a-pig's dubbed a sub specie formed by the late
sixties free-speech movement it didn't take
long to realize anyone doing what
we did would have to have
something on
those

late starry nights
ambulating from station to
station if it hadn’t been for
my 'ol pig-nose and a
Norma Jean ax
that mom
bought
me
on

a
warm
summer
day I would’ve
most likely perished of
boredom it wasn’t much and I
actually learned to play it pretty darn


well never the less it was friday and the night was drawn
and a long way from done a deep breath a brash burst through
the backstage while drawing a smile on a jaded face a gorgeous
peripheral beauty is hangin' on the drummer's neck I hope he
can get it up for the next set I notice a couple of wet
T-shirt girls necking in the corner when out
from of what seems like no
where this starry
eyed

doll

appears grabbing my
elbow and twisting herself about
under over and through my arms like a
cobra copiloted into a sonorous sway of
lamentation eyes lashing with a gentle
sweep that would've made the
waves envious
not

at all like anything you'd imagine

but who's complaining she’s motivated running on octane
miles a minute I don’t think anyone's caught her drift yet that is if
there was any to catch in the first place she had to be flying one
of them jumbo flights to causerie at that speed she paints
an aura like she’s known me for an eternity reality
says I've never meet her but she has this
friend who wants to make my
acquaintance
&

with

the tugging on my arm
and all not quite sure if I'm up
for another encounter but then
again it's friday what could
I say dawdling along
mind boggled
and

meandering

dubious of who she may or
may not be a motor rumbles from what
sounds to be like quite a distance they're
pulling up right out front the windows
open..! who..? what... could
it be..?

it's

my cat...
she wants some love