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Thursday, jJune 30, 2011 at 9:28am
PANAMA PETE WILL PROBABLY POUT

Whilst walking when the southern wind changes in my direction
and become nor-easters such as a festering infection
I have not a choice but to go where my worn out shoes will take me
Until I reach far enough south for the sun to bake me
so people inquire why I don't drive a car
and i tell them because were i to have one I'd drink after leaving a bar

Panama Pete, the owner, knows straight vodka is all i ever drink
and he knows how many I need to no longer think
since drinking at eight A.M. only gets me in trouble with ladies or the law
and please don't think that alcohol is my only flaw

so I leave old Pete with his Panama hat's brim well worn
until, more often than not, I awake on a stranger's lawn
how I got there and why I am indifferent to
and take my word for it I am different from you
you probably have loved ones who care if you should die
i, however, could expire and not a soul on earth would cry
no moans, no groans and no tears would be shed
for only Panama Pete will miss me when I'm dead
People I beat for dope will never forget how much they despise me
and no tuxedo, three piece suit nor pin-stripes can disguise me
i am what i am because of a detrimental mind
and people can tell what i am even if they're blind

whilst walking and vying with the wind or the sun
Alas I arise from the stranger's lawn a man to shun
and will be so until this farce of my life is decitedlly done
(c) 2011...…~Phree!~

(Panama Pete is actually his name and owns or owned a seedy bar on eighth avenue and 46th Street in Manhattan. i haven't seen him in eleven years but ten to one says if I were to walk in he'd pour four and one on the house)