17th STREET
APPLE CART BLUES
I've got the wind-up harpist's rathskellar note
still typed and pinned to my head. The fifth
wheel on that four-wheel cart, I see, has already
fallen off. The big Jewish guy who sells jewelry
on 47th, he's back again, reading residential
contracts on the hairdresser's chin and wondering
what naked shiksa's really wear under their clothes.
All this melody is so simple ; two timed twice shallow.
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