A new decade.
A NEW decade.
I feel good about it.
Let’s grow. Do grown man shit.
Gyrate our hips to the sound of the music.
Make love to the ditz and dash with her cash.
Get loose with it.
Let’s move mountains in mass.
Massive whiplash.
Hungover, I want my time back.
Got to go, gotta go, won’t ever get it back.
Looking down the barrel of
Misfortune is a midnight snack.
I got this padlocked tight. The Nike’s laced up.
The bank going to get its money back.
Ski masked, the millionaire, slumped back.
Wishing wells and waterguns,
Dreams of fat stacks and Mabachs,
It’s the dealers dozen, deadly dosage.
Skipped the breakfast for pure wheat toast.
Sausage pancakes, dosed in syrup.
Not bacon on the back end.
Waiting for the waitress to back her ass up into my Cadillac,
It’s waiting…gassed up. Face down ass up.
This Cadillac is pink with a leather interior.
Fur dice in the mirror, and 86fm on the tuner.
And all the waitress is waiting for is a nooner.
Well give it to her sooner.
Going to the moon, just you and her so.
Send them all a postcard when you get there.
Let me know, you did it, been there done that
Been to the dark side and back.
And look at that…
See the steak, take a stab at it.
Grab it by the syntax what a tired slag.
Some ragged giraffe, mirage addict.
Some paper pushing lab rat.
Been downing soap and suds at the laundromat for half a tab of acid at it.
A thimble and a cup of Buzz, Wow, Pinch of Pizazz plastic.
So good at this shit…abracadabra it’s magic.
Got such clean fabrics can’t stand majestic in magnets.
So he places coins in the slots.
Waits for the dryer to open, to launch the clothes at a fashionista.
To share pasta and pizza, with the teachers and cheerleaders.

To drown the lions and F the zebras.


Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His new book is Train of Thought.