Little Pick Eye

Little Pick Eye

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Little Pick Eye turned William over
like the boots his mama left in the hall.
Stupid pickle gulls pulled the hair out of his head.
Call him kid flower and I guess over time
stiffened and plucked is how you might describe him.
The main thing to remember is that it’s not your fault.
You didn’t introduce him to the cigar.
You didn’t give him a hottie tottie
when he got froze outa school
and you aint gonna straighten him out
with a crowbar now.
Dogs dancing with their big old teeth,
bars a shakin, neighbors scramin neighbors.
You pay good money to live somewhere and then
wammo, God makes it snow all over your car.
Odds are bad you called for advice
but advice is what you’re gonna get:
 
   Work to be the bastard
   Live to be the bastard
   And then be the bastard
 
That, or they’ll take your money right out of the bank
in front of your eyes and tell ya about it. Now Git.
 
Now Git! Now Git!
 
You didn’t make it,
we just gave it to you for something you did.

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Onwards,

Katrina vanden Heuvel
Editorial Director and Publisher, The Nation

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