I live in New York, New York, the city that never shuts up.
Ani Difranco, Cradle and All
I didn't know what to say when the
crazy guy who played the same
two chords on a harmonica
for coins in the park finally cracked.
He was carried away, pants around
his ankles, for humping the
bronze statue of Mahatma Gandhi,
yelping like a
cowboy in freefall.
"Nigger don't wear pants!" he explained,
before beginning his final performance to
a sold out crowd.
"And the colored girls sing...!"
(wheee, honk)
(wheee, honk)
(wheee...)
before posted bail
in quarters and nickels and
wadded-up dollar bills.