Fourth, on fourth, and Maris is going for the winning run,
I made it to the bottom of the well faster
and therefore
would never be declared the winner.
Making our way out
of Potemkin and around
to a side of equal-bashing
buttermilk stew
I made a killing with that stuff
out on the streets till
all hours of the morning
as the drunks came and went
they sang “Katie Dear” and “Start Me Up”
they gazed at the crazy man with the limp
who stood on the corner, even at this
hour, selling comic books
Vintage hero, super whimsy
drawn in all color on the cover but
just a newspaper on the inside
sells them for a quarter but some
are worth a whole lot more.
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