JINGLE JANGLE
IN THE JINGLE JANGLE MORNIN I’LL COME FOLLOWIN YOU
Hands up if you are:
a holy mess
an un-holy mess
not on duty
cancelled
inoperative
vanished
Without resorting to hyperbole all of these are true for me
The indifference switch has been thrown Metamorphosis
button broken
Every morning at 10:15 he has a Molson Canadian at 10:26
a Marlboro 11:24 2nd beer+umpteenth butt Mostly he stands
out there & tries to catch me naked Jeans biker jacket Lanny
Mcdonald ‘stache My cool guy from rooming house on corner
does not realize that I am Coma-Woman A cardboard rendition
of a once emotionally turbulent operating system
So is this dormancy?
40 winks?
Or perma- torpidity?
It really doesn’t matter much to me Under the spell of reverie
Of life flashing before me constantly This gorgeous transfixion
in slo-mo
We all seem to complain that Bob Dylan is incomprehensible
in concert these days Maybe we simply no longer hear the
nasal nuances No longer care where the answer is blowin
So fixated are we on the questions Where will we be in 20 yrs.
has suddenly taken on a whole new meaning Hands up if this is
the most depressing poem you’ve had the pleasure of reading
Arlene Kogod Center for Aging Mayo Clinic: For example, we don’t
want to have a situation where we say, cure cancer and then you
die of Alzheimer’s or stroke. It would be better to delay all of these
together.
Now there’s a scientist on her toes reading the zeitgeist massaging the
numbers Smart as a tack Bring it Arlene
__
Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship
My senses have been stripped, my hands can’t feel to grip
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin’
I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it.
Bob Dylan Mr. Tambourine Man
Late Fall 2014
songanddancegirl 