Crazier Than Batshit

I knew her once, for a couple thousand years. Or maybe she just let me think I did. She was a train with no reverse. A river disguised in her many forks, and a metaphor for the metaphor. The simple ones said she was fucked. We love that word to hide our own ignorance. I thought her sanest of all.






I watched her in the midway.

she laughed to the oddest
of things-


her feet
could never find the straight
nor her hair,
it’s proper place.
and yet,

it all rollercoastered

to my ferris wheel

so perfectly.

her scarf flew
in crazy unfetter
like a drunken buoy
in a hurricane
or would have,
had she been wearing one.

they gave her three for a dollar,

those damn crooked balls,

but
she took only one,
and missed.

the watchers laughed

to her head toss

and the barker

wished

she had taken two more

as she wiped her hands

on the sliver

of her ass.

She saw ten dollars
upon the littered lawn,
and simply walked by.

then,
she found a plastic ring
and wore it
in covet,

and a small child

with wide eyes

learned value.

she bought a corn dog,
just to chew the stick.
and an ice cream,
just to spill the melt.

she kissed strangers
and dodged friends.
and sang a marmalade tune
in a key
that only the sparrows on the wire

could know and appreciate.

and she looked to a sky,
void of light,
save her reflection

in a kaleidoscope sky.

then she raced across
headlights,
like she had extra lives

or just didn't care
and whispered
goodnight
to the river,
which answered her call.

her ass kissed the water
in solemn squat
and when she looked
to where a moon might be
it was,
but only for her.

there were others
that watched her,
that say she was fucked.
and while she is crazier than batshit,
I’m tellin ya,
it ain't the same.

and I know the difference.
~rick