The red-eyed bum
with the sickly green face.
Gumby Chum, they call him
Gumby Chum, Gumby Chum,
giving chase, chasing, chasing–
“Holy shit! He’s catching up to the us!”
“Thank God we’re on the bus . . .”
What would become of us
if that weren’t the case?
“I don’t suppose Gumby Chum would tear off your face?”
asked the little old lady who sat across
from us on the bus.
She looked at us with sadness
in her eyes,
said: “You’re both in for a nasty surprise!
When Gumby Chum catches you
you won’t have time to cry.”