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.
no more couch slouching.
your genie is waltzing
to your wicked spell.

tomorrow the Brooklyn Bridge,
onto the cables, bricks and walkway.
I'll wear yellow clown pants,
my black hat and fabulous rhinestone ring.
I'll scuttle up that arch we call the castle wall.
scream I'm a New Yorker.
come take me alive.
but this is New York.
no one will pay attention.
press is preoccupied.
cops will come. carry me off.
I'll insist we rename the Empire State Building
the Daisy Duck Tower.
yeah, the judge might laugh.
got my courtroom plea planned.

next week Yankee Stadium,
three thousand feet down.
fans will throw beer cans.
I'll scream play ball.
but this is sacred ground.
you can't leave unscathed.
at the dugout, I'll bow, smile.
yell out I love the Bronx Bombers.
but no prayer can save me.
guards will seize me. deploy cuffs.
look for me on the evening news.

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

by the way,
the other night, before sleep,
I swore I heard you
whisper in my ear:
"go barefoot
over the flames. "