The records on the jukebox went around & round & round
but it was clear to Dennis that there was no sound
He yelped out his own lyrics & the manager calmed him down
While Dennis' life was frozen, the world kept spinning round
He burst out words of Japanese
About American politics & types of cheese
& continued to persuade imaginery people with his theories
Some people stared, but the regulars knew
As he told an old woman about his sojourn to Belize
And as the waiters served up the last rounds of pop
Dennis rested his head upon the countertop
Cause if he tried to walk home, he'd never stop
His feet would never find a place to call his home
So Nel's Diner was has always been his place to plop
Feel sympathy for Dennis but for him, life is fun
And maybe he's not the crazy one
He resides at Nel's while we're all out on the run
If you think about it from a different perspective
Maybe our world revolves around Dennis
& he is the sun.
2 comments:
Great poem! Though, I'd work on that "place to plop" line. Unless you're Dr. Seuss, the word "plop" should be used sparingly.
Understandable critique, but this poem was a playful one for me... written about 4 years ago as well, so I suppose I should mature my writing as I draft and redraft it. Thanks for the suggestion!
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