bouncy bass lines

Big bouncy bass lines carried me out the door with a satchel sized smile on my face (Fastball painted on my shoe, the outfield's loafing in the bull pen; the infield is sitting behind the pitcher's mound playing cards; one run up in the ninth. Batter's eyes as big as Cadillac whitewalls, don't you know).

And I'm humming in the alley, soot dancing on hundred year old city street grit. A man pulls a knife. I pulled my empty pockets out , for all the world to see. My wallet's as thin as toilet paper blowing down the alley breeze of a city borne draft.

The knife disappears; there's a pat on my shoulder, and a fin in my hand as he slouches away with ever the ever devouring eyes of a bird of prey.

Who's to say that's a bad thing? My mom used to tell me, when my stomach growled and I said, Mom, I'm hungry. She'd say, “You're fine. You ain't hungry. That's just your big guts eating your little guts”.

Ain't it always been the same. Big shots eating the poor man's life? The desperate plundering the odds in their favor.

I was in a tiny little alley grew up in a tiny yard. Somewhere the world is still as big as Blue and Green. I hope there's some place in the world where the Earth is still wearing its birthday suit.

You can take the 'hunter and gatherer' out of society, but you can't take the 'hunter and gatherer' out of our DNA. You can take the fields of food supply out of the land, bu you can't take the fear of being without out of mankind.

Yet, I'm still dancing on a cloud, not seeing any further than in a fog, and I'm wondering a-mist this upside-down turn of events: was it my humming that big bouncing bass line while dancing with that with satchel sized smile that woke up the dragon of DNA- Isn't Living Great!