Another Ditty Made up While Driving

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Another Ditty Made up While Driving

(Sung as an upbeat gospel style/ soul song, after being stuck behind a man who seemed very confused by the act of driving)

I keep on driving/ On down that road
I keep on going/ On down that road
You take to turning/ ‘Cause we both know
You don’t know where/ you want to go

The road is dusty/ The road is long
So I keep singing/ My driving song
Over bridges and mountains/ On to the sea
On the road eternal/ is where I’ll be

I keep on driving/ on down that road
I keep on going/ On down that road
We take to turning/ cause we both know
The road will take us/ where we need to go

The road it brings me/ just what I need.
The road is sets my/ poor spirit free
The good Lord gave me/ the winding road
His spirit leads me/ where I need to go.

I keep on driving/ On down that road
I keep on going/ On down that road
I don’t mind turning/ for I do know
The road will take me/ where I want to go.

Yes, the road will take me/ where I want to go

Desperately Catching Up Part II

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See? I can write poetry every day! Seriously, look!

2.13
Rooster’s Translation
(Sung as a sort of folksy tune)

Cock-a-doodle-doo
And how do you do?
The sun is up and shining bright!

Cock-a-doodle-doo
You know it’s true,
I do not sing at night!

Cock-a-doodle-doo
And how do you do?
Have you seen my lovely hen?

Cock-a-doodle-do
I’m feelin’ blue
When will I see her again?

Cock-a-doodle-do
And how do you do?
I’ll sing another song!

Cock-a-doodle-do
Here’s what you should do-
Come on and sing along!

2.14
Sitting in a Balcony

When the lights come up I realize
You are the not the handsome fling I hoped for.
I actually know you.
You know me.
We’re…alumni.
Oh, cruel house lights!
You signal more than the end of the play –
You are the end of a double daydream.

2.15
Old Chair

You’re sitting on my mother’s chair.
I folded socks on it.
Pouted on it.
Watched “Willow” a dozen times on it.
When we moved, we donated the chairs, ottoman, and that green couch.
And now you’re slouched on it.
You, with your blue sneakers,
Unruly hipster head of curls,
Furiously twitching on your phone
You’re sitting on my mother’s chair.
At least unbend your knee off the armrest.

2.16
Cloud Bank

Above the night cloud bank
Cities shine pale grey.
Like light sonar pulses, gently calling
We’re here.
We’re here.

I see you and smile.
You’ll catch me one way or another, darlings.