People stopped me in the street to
suggest to me this junk book trade.
They say it to everyone who's new.
You've got to visit the John Dewey Jew.
It took a while to penetrate the accent,
but I got it straight.
A few hours later,
then I knew they meant not you,
but John Dewey.
An elephant without a trunk, a bold, big,
obese chimpanzee.
Two tigers sucking in a funk,
nothing much to say.
A wolf lacking a lower jaw,
a quadriplegic polar bear.
One featherless,
ketoid huck of core,
you better off not going there.
Ringlets,
black hats,
acidic, shoddy boy.
I have Jaws in hand.
I am in this unformed land.
Ringlets,
black hats,
acidic shouts of oil,
Laura and Han in this uproar on the spline.
Cages,
cages,
row on row,
persisting in my river flow.
No matter what you make me do,
don't take me to the John Jew Zoo.
I'd rather go to Gyeonggi-dong when I've got naught to do.
I wander through the crowds down there,
searching for the John Jew Zoo.
Black hats,
acidic shouts of oil,
Laura and Han in this uproar on the spline.