When you smile I smile back

When you cry I cry while I pat you on your back

Sometimes life is just like that

But sometimes the sun shines through

And you feel the glory of the sun

Singing your song

Oh you know I love being lost in these Wisconsin Winds

Where the pine trees hide a squirrel

With a bushy tail

Rabbits bounce

And hawks fly

I crane my neck around

When those lake country girls walk by

This is the song that feels like home

This is the poem within the poem

You know I do that kind of Twain all the time

Fingers dance on nylon

Down at the old 400 bar

Waukesha

Home to all the underground stars

Diamonds still in the Earth

That’s like flowers down at the library mounds

For those desecrated by the white man

Waukesha

Home to the future

Key to the Past

I love it here

Waukesha

I choose to call it home

And home is a state of mind

Maybe one day you’ll catch me busking

Down at ole five points

Take the cash out the case

And go leg it up to that old 400 bar

Stop off at the grotto for a Ponza Rotta

My only friend

Is basically a pocket of pizza

And I’m going to get mine.

Right here

Right now

Cause Ponzas are to Waukesha

What bratwursts are to Miller Park

Baseball is post poned right now

For the coronavirus

But I’m my Sunday Morning mood

Just drinking coffee

And waiting on Superwoman

To come around

Like a Twain reference Twain times

My stomach growls

From the hunger of life seeping in

That Ponza Rotta of Waukesha

Is calling my name

So I’m going to tie this poem up with a bow

Like an ethereal thread