sandy berger's pants

a poem by John Jay:

he gots ants in his pants
and a bowling ball, blue,
three pairs of socks,
and an old brown shoe.

he gots ants in his pants,
some bricks and some mortar, too,
some sand and six pounds o' rocks,
gots to repair an old chimney flue.

stuffed his briefcase under his belt,
full of papers and micro-fishies
hand carried his lunch out in a paper sack,
didn't want no mayo, gettin' on his micro penis-iche.

he gots ants in his pants,
a framed autographed glossy of monica, brand new,
two ink pens and a magic marker,
and an old recipe for whatchacallit stew.

he gots ants in his pants,
why, my goodness, if you worked for bill, wouldn't you?
gots some sins and omissions for the commissions,
why, my goodness, working for bill, whatchagonna do?

oh yeah, he gots ants in his pants,
and some used-to-be-state-secret stuff, can't view,
i'd like to know some of that guff, wouldn't you?
but, my goodness, working for bill, what you gonna do?

end up like vincent, with the 9 millimeter flu?

oh, sandy, he gots ants in his pants,
some chump change, case he gots to get frugal
and a road map of arkansas, and environs,
case he gots to go hide, with the billings, and susan mcdougal.

chorus for soros, ...
so who gots the papers,
think that they belongs to billy,
or do you 'spose, just like the law office billings
that they wind up on a desk belonging to hilly?
she smells like the sweetest rose, if they vanish in the vapors.
oh, yeah, just vanish in the air, like a wraith of swirling ether.

john jay @ 09.17.2006

John was inspired by Atlas.
Not just in his socks. Under a construction trailer, too.