Gumbo To Go Poem by Richard Jarboe

Gumbo to go,
We're just crawfish,
In gumbo to go.

Here in the middle of mojo,
Living in gumbo to go,
With no sense of direction,
Gumbo to go.

Ask the politician what he may know,
He'll give you garnish,
To sprinkle on your gumbo to go.

Ask the low rider,
What's riding below,
He'll tell you something pointless,
Dipped in gumbo to go,

Talk to the doctor,
He'll never say 'no, '
When it comes to the pharmacy,
It's all gumbo to go.

Out on the street,
Living in tents,
Are human wrecks,
Making no sense.

Stoned out of their heads,
With cement for their beds,
Edgar Allen Poe,
Gumbo to go.

What are we waiting for?
Does anybody know,
Simplicity gone in gumbo to go.

When it's dark, too dark to see,
And everything's smothered in futility,
Pray the planet won't blow,
To smithereens in gumbo to go