The moon, the star, the tree and me, Once upon a time it was simple poetry, Not today, but one night Last summer when I parked the car, I saw the moon, it had been following, It tucked itself under a tree That stood watching, and the star; My deity supreme, I cannot speak of my pain, only The moon, the star, the tree, and me.
I picked them up at the Pearl in the Crossroads district. It was a nice ride. It was Select; premium. I remember we talked about hamburgers. They were considerate citizens, and we confabulated well together.
I remember the decade as the 90's. I bet I could hold my party pose till 4 in the morning.
The strangest piece of artwork in Kansas City, to me, is that big hand-finger statue creature up on 12th street, around the front of the Folly Theater.
We turn on 12th, and we drive by it. I hear them talking: He had a friend that fell from that...
I was called to the Longhorn Steakhouse. I pull up and find Johnny, just lighting a cigarette, talking to his lady. I roll down my window, and he knows it's me.
Johnny says, "I'll be right with you pretty lady, I'm just going to finish my cigarette; I don't want to get any ashes in that beautiful car you're driving." He gives me a wink, turns and continues talking to Mrs. Johnny.
What the hell is he thinking? This is a five minute ride we're taking.
Johnny thinks he's so cool, and thinks I'm so demure and sweet. I can't stand Johnny.