Full Throttle

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I'm your mean city genie
and you're my bad witch from the north.
we're in this together.
no more early to bed, early to rise.
goody goody gum drop me
is out of the bottle. alakazam!

tomorrow the Brooklyn Bridge,
I'll scuttle up that arch we call the castle wall.
say "I'm Captain America.
come watch me fly" when the cops come,
they'll say yeah, yeah, yeah, and carry me away.
but first the press will ask questions.
take pictures. they're my solar wind.
my magic on the fly.
in the holding tank,
I'll insist we rename the Empire State Building
the Daisy Duck Tower
or the Mickey Mouse House.
got my courtroom plea planned.
my bail money in my left pocket.

next week Yankee Stadium,
three thousand feet down.
fans will scream, spit,
throw beer cans at me. no matter.
I'll cry "play ball! play ball!
I love the Bronx Bombers."
then run towards the dugout.
guards will seize me. deploy cuffs.
live TV will call me a scummy soul.
I'll tell them my name is King George
and I'm here to sell a new shampoo.
look for me on the TV evening news.

just bought us a 1500cc Hog,
a sleek American beauty.
we'll flee down green street.
levitate. scream. bust out across fields.
no top-notch cop will catch us.
yes, your hot rod hero
will fire up his folly full throttle.

by the way, last night before sleep,
I swore I heard you whisper in my ear:
"jump the rock walls then
go barefoot over the flames."
OK. but no more wishes.