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 out of the bottle,
entranced by your wicked spell.

tomorrow the Brooklyn Bridge,
the cables, bricks and walkway.
I'll wear my yellow patched pants,
black hat and rhinestone rings.
I'll scuttle up that arch we call the castle wall.
throw kisses, rock out,
create senseless chaos.
I'll scream my horse! my horse!
my kingdom for a horse!
the crowd will laugh.
I'll say I'm a dancing voodooist
from Staten Island.
cops will come.  you again they'll whisper.
I'll insist we rename the Empire State Building
the Daisy Duck Tower.
got my courtroom plea planned.

next week Yankee Stadium,
three thousand feet down.
I'll race towards the dugout.
take my bow.
guards will seize me. deploy cuffs.
I'll act heroic. declare myself King George
here to sell a new shampoo.
got a bottle in my pocket.
then scream I love the Bronx Bombers.
look for me on the evening news.

just bought us a 1500cc Hog,
a sleek American beauty.
together we'll find a fiery wind
so we can 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. "
and so I did.