When You Were a Cub

Whether yodeling into the thunder mug or driving
The porcelain Buick or talking to Ralph on the big
White phone, your bear brain is making you do it. The prig
In you hollers, “Enough of the life!” This bear brain is jiving
You, driving you nuts. Tomorrow there’ll be no reviving
That innocent guy who doesn’t rely on a sprig
Of the herb or a shot of red eye. Like a pig
In a poke or a practical joker, you’ll soon be arriving
At the pearly gates with nothing to show but a fat
Red nose. So while you’re still dry, step out under the sky,
And look at the blazing aurora. Yes sit where you sat
When you were a cub. Don’t blubber or think or ask why.
While you play with the colors and shapes, let the solar wind show
You the toys of a boy you thought you forgot long ago.