Page 245
By Jack Joseph Smith
Dylan
What you gonna do, if T could play
a gutar,. on’ top of the poetry, then,
everypody would be leaving the hotel
Ir beat the shit out of a convict
One time;, cause I heard he was
threating my kid, and by the time
the cops came, Il was at my potato
factory drafting table, solid oak
with a perfect slant; when they
came on through the log cabim door,.
«
all along the sand stone fireplace::
Where from looking at the ivy glass,
leaded old and purple at night;
turned I said,, "hey guys listen to
this line" while abruptly, I'd say
five turned around and left