Note: Jete is a dance term, pronounced zhe-teh
Turn me on baby
wrap me up
in your electric
fuzz guitar solo
send the firecracker
giggle of spicy coconut
chicken to my tongue
give my body
a gazelle’s grace
as I jete
off the cliff
and then spread
my wings and land
just south of
the fragrant field
of sunshine roses
let the Beatles music
play
and let this guitar
be the extension
of my arms
soften this heart
to catch a glimpse
of God
in every shape and hue
and tone
and help nurse
my hopes in this borough
of disappointment and filth
it’s an ugly world
but you always give me
x-ray specs
to penetrate
and see all those things
otherwise hidden and divine
and give me
a pencil and paper
always within reach
to prove that
it’s more than
a dream
turn me on baby
you know what I need
Hey! Buy my book! It won't hurt much!