My little plaid bracelet <br />is on a written tune <br />my heart's singing rhythm <br />and i think it's the blues <br /> <br />i've been walking all day since noon <br />and i'm ready to fly <br /> <br />my black felt hat <br />on an old bed post <br />i've a baseball bat <br />that belongs to a ghost <br /> <br />i've been flying all day since nine <br />and i'm ready to ride <br /> <br />i've drawn hearts on my windows <br />in the foggy room <br />and my name and his <br />just below the moon <br /> <br />i've been driving all day since food <br />and i'm ready to move <br /> <br />my heart beats a rhythm <br />ever since i fell <br />from the starrs in the light <br />from an empty cell <br />mirrors in the back room <br />cheetas at the full moon <br />and i'm ready to walk <br /> <br />look at me <br />here i am <br />underneath <br />a chinese lamp <br />jumping like <br />an elephant <br />in between <br />two soda pops <br />e-lec-tric- mo-tor <br /> <br />crispy thins in the wheaties box <br />nibbles inside it feed my fox <br />georgeous little lollipops <br />and i ain't from the 50s, so...<br /><br />Annie Cordelia Adams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-i-ain-t-from-the-50s-so/
