Hello Everyone

By Michael Aaron Gallagher

[Tokens for the ride
Choices left and cast aside]

Posh country clubs & scratchy voices
Ride around in leather Rolls Royces
It’s really kinda sick
How every one of them’s a lunatic
on a pogo stick.

Talk to ya later, Operator
C’mon, let’s ride up & down on the elevator.

Sometimes it’s sorta creepy
That everyone is kinda sleepy
I like them purple fleeces
Not as much as the candy coated pieces.
At least they’re not as short as all them dresses
That everyone messes with & presses.
They say that thing is aggravating
But I’m still not sure if
maybe it’s a bit captivating.

Ghetto blaster — must go faster!

Hey, Big Leaguer — overeager.
Must be briefer, little reefer.
Big red wagon,
“Hop on, Dragon.”
Hello, Caffeine
Are you laughing?
Look at Maggie,
Ain’t she baggy?
Hello, Friar — big fat liar
What happened to you pacifier?

Hello, Mr. Clown — so upside down
I saw you splash in Chinatown
Don’t be sour,
You’re white as flour
‘See you in another hour

They say it’s very healthy
To be wealthy & not cry
Don’t be shy!
Do The Disco — licking Crisco
Way out West in San Francisco.

I’m sure you’re missing all that kissing
Oh that icing is enticing
“Fried Okra” the joker
lost at poker
Five games in a row
Hello, Pretty Glow.

What a nice collar you elegant scholar
If I had me one I’d give you a dollar
Hello, Mr. Plumber
Hello, Mr. Drummer
And what do ya know,
I found Mr. Summer.

Hello, Mrs. Lovespell
Fell down the stairwell
Oh what a yell!
from your tiny nutshell.

Strange, what a notion,
We shan’t swim the ocean,
But maybe we’ll ride on a stiff locomotion.

Don’t stare at the sun
You’re done, Cinnamon
“Hello, Hello,” to Everyone.

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Excerpt from The Windmill (literary magazine, Spring 1999). This poem also appears in Michael Aaron Gallagher’s unpublished book of poetry titled “Worn-Out Cinema.” Copyright © 1999.

The above work is not to be used,  reprinted or broadcast without written permission from the author.