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.