WE TRAVELED
BY RAIL
A SLINKY CAT’S
TAIL OF A TRAIN:
FLASHING THROUGH
STREETS AT FAIRLY
HIGH PACE,
STOPPING FOR
MORE TO JOIN IN
THE RACE
IT IS MEANT TO
PURLOIN THE
THE COSTLY CAR
TRIP, AND GIVE
YOU A SEAT
OR STANDING GRIP,
THE COPPERS
SLINK BY
IN THE WINK
OF AN EYE,
BOARDING TO
CHECK US OUT/
NO DOUBT
AND GIVE DIRECTIONS
WITH CONCISE PERFECTION
AS WE REACH OUR
DESTINATION
THE FAMOUS 8TH STREET
STATION:
THE GOLDEN LINE
SO PURE AND FINE
IT’S THE ENTRANCE
TO A NEW PLACE
WITH A CAPITOL
SHINE:
THE LOOMING ARENA
ALL FRESHLY BUILT
DESIGNED TO IMPRESS
DIG INTO THE HILT,
AS WE FALL INTO LINE
WITH THE HOVERING
MASSES
EVERYONE SCRAMBLES
FOR TICKETS AND
PASSES,
FOR SECURITY WAITS
AT THREE JAM
PACKED GATES
AND FUNNEL
THE CROWD
A TUNNEL SO LOUD
WITH COWBELLS
AND BANNERS
LOTS OF SWEET FACES
WITH VERY FEW
MANNERS,
WE CRUNCH DOWN
TO ONE AND PASS
THROUGH
THEN COME OUT
INTO THE QUEUE
WHERE SPOTLIGHTS
ABOUND,

POOR MR. GILMORE
WHO IS KNOWN
BY HIS FRIENDS
AS THE AVID READER
WITH THE POISON PEN,
SPEWING
AND STEWING
RAKING AND FAKING,
HE HASN’T GOT
LAID
IN AT LEAST
TWO DECADES,
BUT TROWLS
ABOUT
WITH HIS SNIPPY
BIG SNOUT
PUSHED AGAINST
WINDOWS OF SIN,
(HE JUST
DOESN’T KNOW
WHERE TO BEGIN)
GRITTING AND
GRINDING HIS
OLD YELLOW TEETH
HE REACHES FOR
ANYTHING
AND GETS HIS
RELIEF
BY SLAMMING
AND BAMMING
THE PAGES OF LORE
NO MATTER OR
MIND
OF WHAT GOES
BEFORE,
HOPING HIS SINEWY
CRABBED
LITTLE HANDS
WILL PUT FORTH
THE POISON
ALL CRITICS
DEMAND,
AND UPON
DISCOVERY
WITH A MAJOR
RECOVERY
I LAUGHED UNTIL
I COULD NOT,
BUT WONDERING
EXACTLY
WHAT WAS HIS
PLOT,
A FAILED YOUNG
WRITER,
OR REJECTED
OVERNIGHTER,
WHAT CAUSES
THIS NASTY
SICK SPEW,
HE WANTS TO
REMAIN
AT THE TOP
OF HIS GAME,
CRUCIFY
ME AND YOU,