Take your aging frisbee and press it between the leaves of a book.
I don’t want no nacho eating macho cowboy sitting on my couch.
Take your four-wheel-drive bronco out of my kitchen.
And tank up somewhere else.
I don’t want a new age mechanic who gets to his garage by noon.
Take your blackened hands and monkeywrench
and tighten someone else’s bolts.
I don’t want a new age man.
I don’t want a ménage à trois.
I prefer even numbers.
Give me a rock ‘n’ roll man and a boogie woogie night.
Don’t give me a poet. The next thing you’ll know
we’ll all be splattered in the public domain.
Take your typewriter keys and pound them out on someone else’s flesh.
? Gotta be spring but when? 1980-82
No date, no clue other than it’s written on the back of a press release for Jim Kohn, who I think was a classmate at Sonoma State in Expressive Arts. He was director of Ali Akbar College of Music in Fairfax. I wonder if he hit up on me and I got annoyed. I do remember the frisbee. It was red. So that places it at Sonoma State. Since during 1979 and 80 I wrote in my big journal, and this is on a loose piece of paper, I am guessing that it was written in 1981 or 82. And the tone is closest to what I was writing in June 1982.
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