The Walk

A trip in my mind, a trip on the walk. I tripped on down from an uprooted root on a sidewalk.
“Where’s her shit?” she asked, to feel better from a much heated day.
One more day and soon maybe, I’ll soon maybe, I’ll be much more happy.
But as for now it seem it seems as though my heart is crying now.
Way down the street, there’s a lion in denned, her tweety little cubs, them pups, stand wobbling all around.
Es un payaso, tiened un pee-pee thingy, dolled up, rolled over with a red nose too.
Pale and stiff, yes it is a clown. Earth’s reality and with all due respect, surreal with a minor technicality.
All hyper and some some BS, a local caballo and the limpio drug runner.
El Bronco they called me, El Taco, Quemada is Quemao.
That’s the look, one of Love, respected with wings plucked from a pigeon, no that of a Dove.