as i stand on the stage of beverly's hill
the bike ride over with time to kill
will this be day's end an hour before noon
or will i sing with Shih-Hwang
by the light of the silvery moon?
when i bid the gate be opened
so by the elevator ride to my perch
will my flights of fancy
ever touch the earth?
as i sit here on the stage's end
with blue blue sky in the building's shadow
with the Han here squeezed between
roads of noisy vehicles belching exhaust
will i choke on my own laughter hollow?
what a sorry fellow am i
like a marshmellow in an airtight plastic bag
squeezed or burned by consumers to a crisp
when all i want to do, lordy mama,
is rag mama rag
12-29-12
12-29-12
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