So they tell me, get your act together
Write something, make it new for a change
Give up on those errant habits
Go to Chicago
Be there for Birth of Slam
Knock down a few bowling pin icons
Bowling allies, new stain t-shirts
Statues of lint and a make-my-day jockstrap
I’ll sit in with Scotty and the Rib Tips
Watch true brews slide down that mahogany bar
Run it by my man Sergio over at Weeds as we
Wait for the Queen of Poetry to drive in from el Boss Town
So tune up the poems performed to Marsyas’ flute
Keep the meddlesome chthonic wordslingers cranky
Invent a bonus alley, grab the moon
Climb on top of the speaker system and fly
Write a book and get it out
Invent a pseudonym to review it, rave
Rave rave along the Lake
Rehearse the verse all ears radar Michigan
And fall in love a few times so nobody knows about it
Keep it to myself, a few poems quit, quite, and quiet
Outside of so-called competition and the waving blades
Making slow smoky patterns at the old Green Mill
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