Bob Dylan was nearby

i stopped in wonder

at a local bar

just to wet my whistle

and look around,

there wasn't a sound,

and right away i felt

like i was alone 

on a hillside demolished by the sunshine;

the face that i looked at was remarkably like mine.

and she came up to me acting like a piece

of fresh fruit, 

ripe and ready to squeeze,

and i wilted 

like a flowery bloom full of one too many stinging bees

but i had the presence of mind to take my first pure sip

before speaking about the deeper truths of life!

she wondered if i came here often

and, man, did i have a wife?

a brilliant mind, which i possessed,

would have lied like a gentleman

but i confessed

the orange that i was eating was a world on fire,

ah,  i couldn't be a simple liar

since my little bottle of champagne

was used only for silencing my dog

and for watching friends

pray on their knees to the universe and to make amends

for their goodness and their beauty

so i offered her a drink like it was my patriotic duty

to act like the leader of a touring band

writing exactly what i was feeling

while on my back pointing up at the heavenly ceiling!

Bob Dylan was nearby 

singing constantly,

all the while

with his Minnesota accent and a Ginsberg smile

when the lady took the next elevator up to the sky,

looking for her lost horizon and not wondering why

i kept gripping her by the forearm,

blowing my horn while rounding her curve.

but she wondered where i got all my romantic nerve

before everything erupted in flame;

i finally remembered to ask her for her name!

clearer than if it were from the distant past,

i realized my single bottle of champagne would never last.

well, put a cork in it, i heard myself say, 

but the bubbles inside my head already popped

and i knew even with the punishing traffic laws they couldn't be stopped.

the overhead lights flickered and went low

but what happened with the lady i really don't know:

she ran out the front door with a bottle of cheap wine and Michelangelo.