the rain on my parade

i had a dream, it was divine —
bukowski, captain beefheart, kerouac
we’re all hanging out to play on
& read choruses
while i play sax ;
kerouac said. “ but how you’re going to play man? “
“ you don’t know how to use the horn ! “
beefheart standing with his back
on a graffiti sprayed wall, laughing at us
& bukowski too, with beer in his hand.
i said in a kevin hart – spirited way,
“ don’t worry about me ! “
“ i can play this shit ! “
“ let’s go and burn the house down ! “
and so we did.

frantic, i told my wife about it
upon waking up

she replied, it means we’re gonna get broke ————

soon.

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