I’m a crocodiddlediddle
with a very saggy middle
from the little town of Trimble, Tennessee.
There are twenty thousand otters
and a tribe of Harry Potters
and a spider picking ice cream from a tree.
All the streets are made of custard
with a dash of English mustard,
but they never let you walk them in the rain.
There are buskers playing hookie
and a hairy little wookie
sucking bubbles from a bottle of champagne.
We have policemen chasing muppets
and a host of unstringed puppets
that can dance without a single faltered step.
We’ve got hotels made from plastic
held together by elastic
and a statue of the pirate, Johnny Depp.
There are seventeen Obamas
and a hundred toothbrush farmers
who grow bristles that they harvest in July.
All the shops are closed each morning
with a seven minute warning,
though so many out of towners wonder why.
There’s an Oprah Winfrey mountain
and a turkey soda fountain
that we never close, except on Christmas Day.
On the winter we chase rabbits
who have got disgusting habits
they are skittish. but they never run away.
We’ve got mermaids from Nebraska
in a frozen baked Alaska;
they look pretty, but I hate the smell of fish.
There’s a well from Casablanca
that we’ve weighed down with an anchor;
feed it money and you may just get a wish.
© Barry Hopkins, 2014