The rattling Pullmans jumped that day

Off the orange colored tracks

While the clowns and kings all wept at once

On the morning he got back

Though his smile was wreathed in cotton

His eyes were black as coal

As he doled out bills of lading

To the porters with no soul

He spoke of ice cold cabbages

And journeys to the sun

He recruited little children

Though he couldn’t name a one

Then they carried off his baggage

While they tooted on their horns

But he couldn’t walk with Jesus

For the problems with his corns

Yet we will laud his name in public

When we wash him with our green

Let him think he’s close to godliness

And there ain’t no in-between

Put his triptych on the drywall

Slip his mass card in our hearts

But he can’t remember seeing him

In the play or all its parts

Here the tracks are made of silver

There the trains are made of gold

But I’m so sure at the end of things

God is gonna save my soul

So for him I pledge idolatry

For them I will raise the flag

While we skulk off to the kitchen

To be lost in half-a-bag

07/14/2003