Jimmied In The Afternoon
I don’t wait until the sun goes down. She’s a timid girl.
If the world’s my oyster, baby, this place is my pearl.
She’s a real hot dam, she’s a tight-lipped clam, and I’m a knife.
Nobody can husk like me. Been shucking shells for years.
The juice is aphrodisiac like Aphrodite’s tears.
Jean-Luc Picard’s Locutus and everybody’s hailing Brutus now.
I’ll kill a Caesar before the clock strikes noon.
Chase it with twelve pints of Guinness and a baby blue new Toronto tune.
I got a shine, and while you wait to toast the moon, I’m getting jimmied in the afternoon.
I drink to Hemingway anyway he would,
Hank Chinaski, Dylan Thomas, George Thorogood,
Carson McCullers, all the others...
Mr. Buffet’s got a point but it’s not sharp enough.
It’s just some longitudinal seaman’s salty stuff.
Follow me. Don’t be a lemming. Should we thank Sir Sanford Fleming?
I don’t care for the little hand or the big one on the wall.
Give me some full-bodied legs and make them long and tall.
Somebody’s shot the piper. I’d even shoot de Kuyper.
© AudSongs 2019