17th and Wazee St. on a hot summer afternoon
all the stew-bums are strewn up leaning up against the gin mill
somethin' in the air
come nightfall everything changes
somethin' in the air
there is a blurred drizzle down the plateglass
a neon swizzle-stick is stirring up a sultry night air
and a yellow biscuit of a cueball moon
is rolling maveric across an obsidian sky
and the buses are groaning & weazing down on the corner
and I'm freezing down on restless blvd. cross town from easy street
of the tight knots of movie goers & out-of-towners on the stroll
aaahh,you know all those used car salesman
dressed-up in purinia checker-board slacks & foster grand wrap-a-rounds
rainbow Earl Shive 39.95 merchandise
all dressed up in jackle-striped jackets with the blue denien-dye
color televison,test-pattern,double knit,poliester slacks
and they will be throughing out some kinda texas gweened routine
"Hello Suckers,We Like Money,We Love Your Money Just As Well As Anyone Elses"
"Give Me Your Money You Fool"
aaahh,and all them harlican sailors will be on the stroll in search of
like new,new paint factory air candy apple red am,fm dreams
aaahh,you know all the piss yellow gypsy cabs stacked up in the taxi zones
and they are waiting like pinball machines to take off a joy ride to some magicial place
they are waiting in line like truckers welcome diners on dirt lot full of Peterbuilts
and Kenworths and Jimmies and the like seriously highball bankrupt breaks
over driven,under paid,under fed,a day late and a dollar short
I got my lips around a bottle & my foot on the throttle and I'm seriously standing on the
corner
17th & Wazee
tell 'em that "porkchop" sent you
I'm standing on this corner like I'm just got in town jasper
on a street corner with a gasper kinda a chestire billboard grin
stroking a goateed chin
using parking meters as walking sticks
now I'm on the inebriated stroll here
with my eyelids propped open at half mass
but, you know over at chubs pool and snooker
it was a nickle after two,it was a nickle after two
in the cobalt steel blue smoke dreams
the chalk squeeked and the floor board creeked
and a Olmpia sign winked through a torn yellow shade
and old Jack Chance himself was leaning up against a werlitzer
somethin' by Sinatra
"That's Life,That's What All The People Say"
"Ridin' High In April,Shot Down In May"
"I Know I'm Gonna Change That Tune"
and he's eye-balling out a serious combonation shot
"Impossible" your say,naaaahh
when just about that time
the sun was crawling yellow out of a man hole at the foot of 23rd street
and a dracula moon in a black disguise was making it's way back
to it's pre-paid room at the St.Marice Hotel
and I'm leaning up against this werlitzer see,
"I Left My Shorts In S.F."
but, you know the L train was tumbling across the tressels
and it sounded like the ghost of Gene Kupa with an over head cam & glass-packs
and the whispering brushes of wet radials on wet pavement
backing up a traffic jam session on 17th
and I'm looking for some kinda emotional investment
with romantic diviends some serious physical negotiations
and I'm gonna be held over,held over for another...
smashed weekend
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