2016-11-17 07:46:58 UTC
Yes, that Richard Pryor looking guy
was somewhat interesting and being drunk
he drooled rather than spoke words
thinking I looked like Mark Twain or Gene Wilder,
as I sat watching it all go by on Broadway, at midnight.
He mentioned Kentucky, was bourbon on the mind?
North oats, was sour mash on the mind? Carolina,
where his family worked on crab boats,
then Tom Hanks was on my mind, though his dream
Politics reared its ugly head, drunk or sober it’s all the talk,
though quiet I was, being entertained, while playing the straight white guy,
thinking, possibly, my Einstein hairdo might just have been the candle
to this drunken moth.
His stumble into me, brought it to a close,
my coffee wetting the same sidewalk he wandered off on…
and from the other end a hooker chick approached,
she too, in shambles offering a down and dirty for five bucks
but saved, I was, a chilly breeze whispered, go home now.
I wanted dark this night and wasn't let down.
(with thanks to Blackpool Jimmy)