Moondog,
you look like a hotdog
a gray frog, all dressed in
dark-gray ash,
yes…a hotdog
with no hair on the head
(I’ll stay with that).
Moondog,
you need a shave
your beard is way, way, way,
out of the way…
perhaps you’re too busy to
get off your train…?
(it’s really not a question).
Moondog,
sing me a song,
and I’ll finish this poem
someday…with a
bang.
#2206 2-1-2008
Friday, February 1, 2008
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