I've got a cookie cutter
shaped historically like the head
of Felix The Cat and he
doughs me out days like
we're both from the 20s.
As the TV blinks disco
Spanky winks, that's 35 years ago
My Betty Boop tie implied the 30's
More money, more frosting, like
that's all we need.
Because sometimes I'm swamped
in night you know? Black and white
reels when the radio, was the only
substantial sound, but those people
now are in the ground.
Because they've been out created
by their own ink nightmare. He's strutting
to your fears, galvanizing new gray
hairs, years which pass fast as an
animated scene.
Until I suck colored wind
in the cartoon flow, losing
track of the winnings, or
the cookies left
to go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem