2017: a voyage or ‘Careful with That Axe, [E]
That was the year I tattooed my brain
On a wa{vv}y sea of cold iron fists,
Creating a nice whorl of image; of how
Syd used to dive into Warhol’s infamous cow
Wallpaper; the pink scratch and sniff udders
Enabling us penny-wise fans to wade up
If only to smell the green ham and eggs
And green eggs and spam. Most would take
A bow or a Bath after eighteen pages–
That or a few notches up and higher
With our fancable, non-plussed driver
Exchanging a couple sobs and a few
Magnesium proverbs; again
With that same ballroom audience.
That and every so often–it almost goes
belly-up and steady enough: steering a liddle-
red steamboat wheel while sitting half
bored next to the driver, whose still fast asleep.
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