The San Antonio Stockade Blues

This is something I originally wrote close to a decade ago. Its been revised several times since then, though the most recent revision was three or four years ago. Quite different from my more recent work, but I think it stands up suprisingly well all things considered.

The San Antonio Stockade Blues
by John W. Leys

Trapped in a dream
Running naked in the street
When a Swahili speaking hunchback
Knocks me off my feet

He doesn’t even say thank you
When I bite him on the knee
He just goes skippin’ down the runway
Proclaiming that he’s free

A sickly looking camel
Spits on my grave and laughs
Then turns to avoid the villagers
Who just want his autograph.

Dylan’s playing electric banjo
Trying to impress Rimbaud
Why does everyone keep pushin’ him
Back to Desolation Row?