i flew 4,363 miles from tallahassee to london
just to get distracted by something nasty,
(i must find a john)
i’m at the crosswalk where john n’ the boys pranced across the chalky white rectangular blocks like they were Beethoven’s chubby fingers walking over piano keys
a father watches his son and daughter take turns cartwheeling on the pavement across from me the daughter can do them with one hand now
i’m about to have a daughter of my own
through my large intestine,
she’s pushing and swimming her way
(shall i call her dirty maggie mae?)
she’s begging to come out through my backside’s bathroom window
i check every corner store around
looking for maggie’s future birthplace
one that likely doesn’t have ringo sized walls between the urinals
(why are brits always tryna take a peep at their mate’s pipsqueak?)
all the clerks shoo me away while snickering
just because i said bathroom instead of loo
stirring a feeling presumably similar to paul’s
when john would whisper shit all over his songs
years before johnny got shot by some piece of shit that puts dear maggie to shame a fella that burped out the words,
the beatles changed the world,
and i changed the beatles
by that logic,
abbey road changed the beatles,
and the beatles changed the world,
so if I change abbey road,
i change the world
or maybe i’ll just be some stupidly chapped man wanting to be famous
one who succeeded by tearing a hole through a man like he was cheap and thin linen now he lives the rest of his days in a nowhere room,
making nowhere plans,
for nobody
no, i’m not him
maybe i’m the eggman
or maybe i’m the fool on the hill
dropping a poo for the kill
but not on the people,
on their vacations
none of them gave me an invitation
but in the middle of their celebration,
i squat down
and start growing my tail
as my rectum gently weeps,
so does the father’s daughter
i tell her:
sweet pretty darling,
do not cry
i know my moans sound like some wacky walrus lullaby
maybe this’ll make for a good tale for her to tell someday
One i don’t need to be awake for
perhaps i can skip this event with a kip
(sleep is the ultimate emergency exit)
but maggie won’t allow it
she’s too heavy
and there’s something in the way she moves
that distracts me like no other
something in the way she slides outta me
oh darling!
why’d you have to do me such harm?
why couldn’t we just do this alone?
squirting yourself out like some mean spicy mustard
slipping out the rims of my ass
and then belching out emptiness
like air escaping a vacant squeeze bottle
and this turd is green!
her parents must of been those chicken and egg butties I had for tea time
i look around
everyone on abbey road is wild’n out
now goes the father’s son
(he just blacked out)
while dear maggie mae plops out
posing herself on that toilet paper crosswalk block
dazed and confused
and hotter than 90s parker posey
just doing what she please
what can i tell you?
she had to be free
i just hope i didn’t catch a disease
now everyone is here
bungalow bill, eleanor rigby, lady madonna,
rocky raccoon, sexy sadie, polythene pam,
all the king’s horses and all the king’s men
all coming together
over me
and my little miss stinky
Now i have to pee
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