Poets Hitchhiking on the Highway
Gregory Corso

Of course I tried to tell him
but he cranked his head
      without an excuse.
I told him the sky chases
      the sun
And he smiled and said:
      “What’s the use.”
I was feeling like a demon
      again
So I said: “But the ocean chases
      the fish.”
This time he laughed
      and said: “Suppose the
           strawberry were
                pushed into a mountain.”
After that I knew the
      war was on–
So we fought:
He said: “The apple-cart like a
      broomstick-angel
           snaps & splinters
      old dutch shoes.”
I said: “Lightning will strike the old oak
      and free the fumes!”
He said: “Mad street with no name.”
I said: “Bald killer! Bald killer! Bald killer!”
He said, getting real mad,
      “Firestoves! Gas! Couch!”
I said, only smiling,
      “I know God would turn back his head
      If I sat quietly and thought.”
We ended by melting away,
      hating air!

© Gregory Corso

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