So then Woody, now a woodpecker free as a bird, turns to his tree-mate, Late Night Nate, the owl he now had a band with, and asks: “So, what do you think of these lyrics for my new song:
I was Kubla Khan
with his dress shoes on
thumbing his nose
at his bishop's pawns
and sweating the long game
frozen in my long johns.
She followed cocaine
'til her money were gone
and beat me hard 'cause she's
a battle axe,
I had to wear contacts
because my cataracts
otherwise counteract
how I like to drive my
Cadillacs.
A 'Seville', if you will,
though, as long as I'm
not pushing, the steering
is all the same still.
So like a cold beer bottle,
I sweat, and haven't even gotten
to her nipples yet.
The bottle cap pops and
I foam.
I shake her before using
then limp my way home.
In a straight line
more or less,
unless I'm too stoned.
Which leaves me with a
headache, like a Bedouin
who lies in bed awake
riding paperback riddles
until the cusp of dawn,
after which
comes: ZOOATHALON,
which helps me keep
my grip on. As thick as the
earth's crust is my desire to
reach beyond its' dust,
and if I'm
feeling Japanese, it helps me
keep my Nippon.”
COPYRIGHT SANANDA MAITREYA
MILANO 10th AUGUST 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
INTELLECTUAL COPYRIGHT PROTECTED