The Jackson Express – Something to do? A Poem

Holy Moley,
Role a poley?
Sat down,
Back of the bus,
Where the stoners were,
Smoking,
Toking,
Midnight dreams,
Of washed up porn stars,
Drinking flat soda on a bus,
Heading nowhere,
And fast,
We were the troupe,
Fancy Dances,
Clowns made of stone,
Grappling with angry angels doped up,
Freely falling through clouds of acid,
Calling out,
FREEDOM!
As we fell.

Jesus Christ is there,
Maybe,
Or just some Jewish fellow,
Lost,
Alone,
Wanting to be,
To be,
Be?

He said his name was Toby,
Drinker,
Poet,
Fare thee well friend,
Looking for a gram,
A dram,
Some girl he left,
Somewhere down town,
Was this the bus there?
No.
Do you have a line?
Go away friend,
Get off this bus,
You’re still savable?

Dicks,
Chicks,
Polish hot dogs,
Extra mustard,
For a kick,
Dick,
Mick,
Flick of some tick?

Where are we?

Lost,
Somewhere
On a bus,
Heading nowhere,
Going there fast!

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