Around and around I paddle small town to sleepy city
Forward sideways backward bobbing from same to same
Rarely the chosen one anymore no longer what you'd call pretty
One of the last taken a rag-armed outfielder in a sandlot game
Over and once again red duck Drake the foremost first pick
Or one of my strutting sisters younger than myself more agile
And damn those cheeky New-Kids on the blue duck clique
Nobody harbors any nostalgia for an old bird frail and fragile
So every night I swim without complaint a circumcircular spinster
A guarded gleam gazes hopefully out past distant downcast eyes
Looking to the day some young tow-head hay-seed youngster
Picks me up and turns me over and selecting me wins first prize
No comments:
Post a Comment