Cuckoo Nutso

Cuckoo Nutso

(Tom Entrican 8/2021)

Cramped up real tight in my soft little room

A place that’s so small, just like mothers womb

Not one thing to do but listen to songs

Written by men who are now long gone

My only one visitor, a bald man with pen

Who writes what I say again and again

He seeks much knowledge of my youth “was I wild”

Or “was I often dropped on my head as a child”

If he probes too deep I just give him a scowl

Or perhaps a hand gesture that he thinks is foul

Sometimes I won’t answer which just makes him yell

Then I top it all off by creating a smell

He says I can’t leave here ‘til he figures out

What’s broke in my head as if something fell out

I’ll just bide my time in my funny white clothes

With my arms tied in back, I just can’t pick my nose