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Lyrics by Phil Wormuth
Music by Michael W. Dean.
Rick reluctantly pulled his transmission;
the fluid, as expected, was gloppy –
any effort to replenish it resulted in gestural groaning
and harsh, emotional self-criticism.
Elastic feet took to hysterical wandering.
Eventually, he tricked the crash-jammed teeth –
they dropped like syrup into gear… ze-dunk!
Any yardage gained was off-set by gridlock
all the way to the ballpark.
NOTES:
While the song isn’t microtonal, the sound of Rick’s bad transmission is