Foot Long Dog

Foot Long Dog

The feat’s too big, the obstacle too great,
no matter how high I jump,
I always catch my foot on the hurdle
and fall tumbling into an abyss
of good intentions that pave the way to failure
and ringing in my ears,
I hear Lowell George singing:
“Right on through to Baltimore, you’ve got to love me now,
give it to me gently, feats don’t fail me now…”

…don’t get me started on Baltimore, bird fan I ain’t!
Ringo will be howlin’ come spring training and this will be another
Yankee year sitting with the Bleacher Creatures sipping MGD
and chewing on a foot long dog…
…which, where I come from is a puppy, although a hot dog
sausage, which is a Frankfurter, is not the same as a sausage dog
which is a Dachshund – roof dog! (Although they are both German!)
Anyway, how do you eat one? A foot long, I mean
– too long – and now I’m hearing Fats Waller,
tinkling the ivories and exclaiming that “up in Harlem at a table for two,
there were four of us, me your big feet and you! ‘Cause your feet’s too big!”

Then confusion reigns and I can’t decide whether to get a new pet or
have a fast food lunch and I’m tripping myself up with mixed metaphors
trying to make sense of the this crazy game which appears to be afoot
and all the while humming: Don’t the sunrise look so pretty, never such a sight,
like rollin’ into New York City, with the sky in the morning light…
which brings me back to the Bronx screaming “Batter-da-batter-da-batter…
schwiiing batter!” Whilst shaking my head and muttering under my breath,
that the feat’s too big and that your pedal extremities really are obnoxious!
Yes. the feat’s just too darn big!


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