Tripping

I can’t drive a bus, never mind an ambulance

Said the taxi driver, with menace in one eye.

Did he know, merely a coincidence

that we were finely tuned, ready to fly?

 

We ignored him, as you do, piled in

the back of his fur lined mobile.

As we shrunk in he said I regret to inform you

your eyes are outrageous, and your language unreal.

 

He never spoke again, as far as I know,

but I don’t know him so who’s to say?

He dropped us off where he thought we should go,

snatched our money, and drove silently away.

 

The night closed in like a paper bag, the air

crunching to the sound of our feeble escape.

I forgot my name, and cried about it, Woz said

It didn’t matter who I was anyway, my arms

grew longer to thank him, and Hendrix twelve

stringed along barbiturate way.

 

The Paisley moon came around too soon,

We just floated away.

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