Poem of the Day: Bazooka Day

Bazooka Day

If I were rich
I mean filthy, stinking rich
I’d call up the Mayor of Bozeman, Montana
And buy a mountain range
The beautiful kind
Far off in the distance
With snow white summits
And that light blue glow
It’s an impressive part of the earth
That sniffs the sky
The horizon of Bozeman, Montana’s super highway
A beauty to gaze at
If I was rich
I mean filthy, stinking rich
I’d buy that mountain range
And have ‘Bazooka Day’
It would consist of
A couple of friends of mine
About nine
We’d have old aluminum lawn chairs
One for each of us
And snacks
And a grill
And a lot of beer
Tall cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon
We’d also have a missile launcher—
Maybe three
And plenty of missiles
And RPG’s
And an RPG launcher
The kind from the great movie ‘Red Dawn’
We’d sit there all day and shoot our missiles and RPG’s
At my mountain range
We wouldn’t be that good
And that would make it all the more fun
Maybe we’d give one of my friend’s girlfriends
A life-sized Hummer
She could control it by radio control
And we’d all try to blow it up
With our missiles and RPG’s
But we wouldn’t be that good
And we’d probably be kind of drunk
But that would make it all the more fun
Like when you stink at bowling
And everyone gets a razz ‘cause it’s your turn to toss
We’d sit there in our decrepit lawn chairs
Shooting missiles and RPG’s
At my Montana mountain range
In Bozeman Montana
If I were rich
Filthy, stinking rich

Poem from The Gypsy Mile available on Interpunk.com

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