ABCD...

A hillbilly, no a born again
bigot, with newspaper eyes and
crows feet etched on his shoulder blades...

"Dylan?" he mutters, from ear-to-
ear, as though chewing on the thought
formed in open-space as green-eyed
grad. students flutter about the quad,
hoping to get some of that undergrad. ass.

"its a miracle, a fucking miracle" he screams,
jumping on the spot, crow screeching, cawing,
k-k-k-umm, no...cancer of the mind
pointing to the Heavens, iridescent, gleaming
over a two-pound chicken, yeah, well
never look a gift horse in the ass
might shit on you, yes, you
lay-lady lay...lay upon a smoking grass bed.

quote me "spoke the earnest man, earnestly
resting on the downy earth".
Sister Agath-ommo-nagather, well
Timmy the Tool sure tooled her.
U-oy kids though, sitting on the leaves,
vacillating over the holy
whores of Christ, well, drunk and pissing really...
X-marks the spot.
Y? is the groove to which he "Dylans"
Zebras dance by, pedestrians try and walk on them. yeah.
***
this we call life.
in the fastlane.