It Be Okay

A little bearded man came to the store
where Sally worked each day from nine to four.
His hair was mostly white with streaks of gray,
and when addressed he’d say, “It Be Okay.”

“Sir, what is your name?” Sally inquired.
“It Be Okay,” he answered, sounding tired.
So Sally thought it was okay to say
to It Be Okay, “How are you? Okay”

“I’m It Be Okay, not Okay, okay?”
Sally appeared displeased and looked away.
Then she quipped, “I’m okay; are you okay?”
(In Sally’s mind she had a need to play.)

“Being polite, I’ll tell you I’m okay,
plus I can say, It Be Okay’s okay.”
“Okay, I think the subject now can stay
safely tucked away, if that is okay.”

“Oh it’s fine, It Be Okay, that’s one way
to allay any tongue slips made today.”
Just then, It Be Okay began to sway,
asked for a chair and Sally said, “Okay.”

She brought him a Captain’s Chair straightway;
It Be Okay whined of bad vertebrae.
He stroked his beard, told her he was from Maine.
After that day, she never saw him again.


24 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
9-26-17