Funk Soul Lover

A poem
by Chris Hibbard
December 22, 2014

Funk Soul Lover

I’ve been having dreams
of what may come to be
What a nightmare
I haven’t found a job
Since I got my B.Sc

Now in my dreams
I’m a short-order cook
slinging burgers and fries til dawn
There’s a jukebox in the corner
playing loud insistent bass
The counter man yells his orders in harmony
and a bar full of people sing backup
Everything I say is repeated one bar late
One bar late

Five guys in the corner are clapping on the 2s and 4s
When I spin up a shake
It sounds like synthesized strings
Bums in the back lane playing percussion on cans
Lord oh lord, bums playing drums
I’m a prisoner of the funk
I’ve got a jukebox for a brain
What happened to the way it used to be?
Set me free, set me free
let me wake up again
Wake up now before I drown in the funk
Come on now, wake up punk

Burgers dancing on the grill it seems
All the food is dancing in my dreams
Leather-backed greasers lining up for malt shakes
Snapping fingers and a-singin’
Scoobie-doobie-doo-waa
Fat black mama cuts in
Diggin’ into chips, swingin’ wide hips
Her voice sets the whole place to ringin’
Hallelujah Lord, love that fat black singin’
Now the mustard and the ketchup
make a red and yellow rainbow
squirtin’ high into air
Watch that sweet potato pie
try to do the hand jive

I’m a prisoner of funk
I’ve got this jukebox for a brain
What happened to the way it used to be
Lordy oh Lordy, gotta set me free
Let me wake up from this land full of shakes
Gotta wake up now, gonna drown in funk, wake up punk
Oh yeah I said oh yeah
I’ve been having dreams
I love the funk it seems
Gotta get me a job
Before it all comes to be

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~ by Chris Hibbard on December 22, 2014.

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