Don’t you worry I’m all right jack I’m as alive as a bullfrog in a pond of shell oil I’m all right jack.
It is Tuesday night. 8:45 p.m. to be precise. I am walking along King Street, heading west towards the Capitol. And the town is just starting to buzz. Like a colony of bumble bees outside a hive. Yes, It’s that time again. Night time, night time, city light time. Day left an hour ago. The night is young and so am I. You too jack, my boy.
I look up at the sky, half hoping to see a UFO, or maybe even that monster from outer space who’s always attacking me in my nightmares. But all I see is a sky full of stars. Those stars are millions of miles away, yet they still sparkle. Even despite all the light pollution in this dirty city, they still sparkle. The eyes in my head are sparkling too. It is a beautiful night and I am feeling quite all right.
Mr. Moon is big and full and seems to be smiling a wide toothy grin at me. I flash one of my million dollar smiles back his way. “How do you do?” I ask him. Old Man Moon nods in my direction, gives me a wink and goes right on grinning. I keep walking. Straight on down the road.
On the corner of Main and Pinckney, a homeless guy wearing an old ragged suit coat is begging for pennies. “Good evening,” I say to him with real conviction. I stick my hand into the back pocket of my jeans, pull out a fiver and a milky way candy bar, and press it into the beggar’s hand. The guy’s eyes light up and his cheeks flush. “Tanks mista! Milky way’s ma favorite.” “Don’t mention it” I tell him coolly. “I have more dough than I know what to do with. And besides, you look like you could use it more than me.”
Over by Madison’s, some joker is bragging about how damn good he is to some simple-minded chick who is just hanging on his every word. Eating up his lies like apple pies. And he doesn’t even have to try. What a guy.
Outside the Queen B, old Spadely is getting pounded by Clubber Lang. Just because Spades handed it to him in some crummy game of rummy. “Lay off Langly,” I call out, “Have a heart”. Langly shoots a glance in my direction, spits, grunts something obscene, then goes back to pounding poor old Spades.
Meanwhile the diamond dogs are howling at the man in the moon. Mr. Moon scoffs back at them. “What do you think I am, made of green cheese?” he sneers.
All of a sudden a sad feeling has come over me. Just a few minutes ago I was feeling so good. Then pow! I think Clubber Lang punched me in the gut. The lights don’t seem as bright anymore. The stars have lost their luster. Mr. Moon’s big cheesy grin has turned into a dark sinister sneer. It is scary out here and I am cold. The world we live in is a cruel one. Full of lies and deception and evil people. Like me. Yes, I’m no different than the rest of them jacky-boy. My no-good rotten mind hurts and judges and cheats and lies. I make mistakes. I don’t have everything figured out. I’m just another human being huffing and puffing along, trying to get ahead in this gigantic footrace of life. Always moving, but never seeming to be making any progress. That’s the sad truth of it all.
I often escape into a make-belief world of poems or books or music. Because sometimes these places are easier than real life. Maybe this is how it is for everyone. Maybe not. But for now I’m going to stay on these fictional escapades a little longer. I need to get out of the rat race. Speaking of which, have you ever seen rats racing? We eternally call it the “rat race”. Actually, what we’re talking about is the people race. I’ve never once seen a rat race another rat. In all the time I’ve been around. And I’ve been around jack.
Why can’t everybody just be happy and get along with each other? Shake hands, make up, and forget about it. I don’t know. Sometimes I just don’t know. It is cold out here and I am scared. Where should I go? You tell me jack. How ‘bout the Aces. I’ll buy you a drink. Shit man, you look like you could use one.
I know it’s only make-believe, pretend
I think the moonlight is my friend
But sometimes I’m not sure
Moonlight:
No comments:
Post a Comment