Hey Can Lady – I wonder if you were ever anybody’s sexy baby
and if you were, what went wrong?
Those cast off clothes you wear and the state of your hair tells me
that it don’t matter if people stare while…
You flap like a flag in giant size pants and too-big shoes – A grumbling
troll glaring under a knit hat
“Back the hell off! These cans are mine. Go take your show on the road!”
Is all I got back when I said hello
No time for friends when you’re walking every city street in sun, rain, snow
and sleet with a single goal in mind –
To cram every stinky, sticky trash bag on your rusty shopping cart full
of cans you exchange for cash
So you can eat breakfast in a restaurant and buy all the things you want
How far does that money go?
These days to cut down your costs for cigarettes, you pick butts and roll
your own from other people’s waste
You’ve got all the rudiments down, yet you never smile and always frown
even while you’re pissing on my lawn
Hey Can Lady – I wonder if you were ever anybody’s sexy baby
and if you were, what went wrong?
Great subject for a poem–an earnest wondering bouncing off your noticing.
Kerouac fan, too. Thanks, Mr. Typewriter Man.
Thanks for your positive comment, Lisa! It’s been a blast being in this issue of The Hickory Stump magazine. They were very kind and helpful to this retro oriented guy! Glad to hear that you’re a Kerouac fan, too! No one can ever replace Jack, but I hope to apply some of the same sentiments he did in my writing. Catch you on the flip-flop-Mr. Typewriter Man