Billy Bindlestiff in his tailored denim

Takes all he owns along with him.

A denim tie with his denim work shirt.

He felt a denim hat went well with it all

And being an ensemble couldn’t hurt.

He lived under a bridge in Hollywood

Saved the money he would have spent

Getting an apartment somewhere

Paying exorbitant amounts of rent


Helen Hollersome always looked wet

And loudly she cursed the passersby.

It was meant to be a strong cussing out

But it sounded like a loud way to cry.

She stalked The Boulevard mannishly

In her stained and faded trench coat

Hands in pockets scowling angrily

I couldn’t help but wonder if Helen

Didn’t have some kind of family.


Crystal the Hippie sat almost every day

Up against Aldo’s Restaurant’s window.

She was peddling the Free Press news.

She once told me she was a widow.

A hawked passer responded to her

When she asked him to spend a dime,

He said, “I can’t read”. She replied,

“Roll it up and smoke it sometime.”


The Marshall of Hollywood passed

In his western movie lawman drag

And Sidney Cigarette stopped him

And politely asked him for a fag.

The Marshall grinned and turned to him

And pointed down the street

He said, “That’s about every third

Person here you might chance to meet.


For a greenhorn Missouri boy

This was like a daily parade

That left me gaping and gawping

At the choice of move I had made.

The weather was great and the scene

Something I never would see back home

Made this small town city boy glad

He decided to grow up and roam.


Brent Kincaid



(Image from: www.tripadvisor.com)


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