NOTHING
HAPPENS
Sparks fly, and the message is dirty,
the lingo is hip, the massive is monkey,
the stars are aligned. The Greta Garbo
girl in her silk negligee takes a seat by
my hand, and won't go away. Beats my
ass what she's doing, and I'm not asking
a thing. Sparks fly, the message is empty,
and nothing happens at all. The freak train
stops at Station B, five people get off, not
one of them me. The blue guy in the box-cut
fedora steps up, 'is this seat free?' I looked
him down and say 'no it's five bucks prepaid
and 10 more later.' He laughs a snide smile
and buys for an hour. His nose is running
blood, and I see he's a goner. Two red ducks
fly by, looking east to see what's west. I
remembered an old Beatles movie, somehow
lingering - all those crazy, stupid traincoach
antics, and those silly girls laughing;
all those silly girls, laughing.
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