You are book
and I am street
smart
you like to know
the theory
behind the chords
struck
by finger picking
finger licking
good moments
of this hootenanny
while I just strum
and humdrum
through the ho-hum
of an afternoon
while you toil with
Beethoven brows.
I am the untrained
monkey
the jingle jangle
junkie
you are
the tuxedo wearing
Steinway playing
Rubinstein
and I, like
Mr. Bojangles,
simply tap
into the
collective
unconscious
dream
and dance