The Mainstream’s spices go up, and
Sweet butter’s on the mend.
But when tha’ heck will
The masses allow white flour to rise?
The moon and Jupiter
Were low in the Eastern sky
The night I most recently voted.
I pointed and took a shot across buildings and
Central Park on that Manhattan evening.
The wonderful PICs of that night,
Later on discovery in my ‘Ultra20',
Turned-out clearly for all to behold!
I live and love and
But never have I dispised the
Chilling art of selfishness.
Instead I do give due dilligence to
That unconsciousness which
We should all call coincidence.
Who among us
Will be the first to wade suspended
Into that narrow Perigee area
They call “The Crossing”?
Or is that Space reserved only for
‘Who?’ You might ask. “Well”, I shall respond:
“You’d better ask somebody!”