Mr Michigan Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I had this silly dream the other night
musta been due to local surplus casket wine,
I sat inside the luxury caboose,
left Central Station for the journey to the firs.
I was a strapping and still blushing skinny teen,
had all my bearings and co-ordinates quite right.

Still fed the man dressed up in herringbone gray twine
a puffed up story which turned Nobel Prizes loose.
My eyes were open to the sights of any scene
I told the gentleman whatever now occurs
I am in limbo in the World of No Return
he said the Africans can burn and burn and burn.

I was appalled but in reality was stomped
what did he mean this man so fragrant of Old Spice?
But he just smiled and said your uncle is my friend
and it was true, he never cheated, to the end.
Don't you, dear reader ever wish that those who touch
your very being like the dog is sought by lice,
would pay a visit in your dreams, to let you know
that you were noticed, even though it wasn't much?