The Clackamas print. (Oregon City, Oregon) 1989-2019, May 29, 1996, Page 8, Image 8

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If you’ve never seen this guy before
He’ll take you by surprise
He’s got a shaggy stone-age haircut
And a pair of wandering eyes
He’s not too tall and he’s not too bright
And he looks a little dumpy
He’s a wee bit on the wild side
He’s a crazed space-age bus junkie
He hasn’t always been this way
He was bom a normal lad
Just part of the American family dream
With the exception of his looney dad
When the boy was just a wee past three
And his drawers were still a tad gunky
His old man looked him in the eye
And said, "Boy, you're gonna be a bus junkie!"
Bubba + Guido = No comment - could be kinky.
Bus junkie rides the lines
He got an all year pass for three ninety-nine
. He sits by the driver doing his time
He’s just out looking for more of his kind
Every since he started school
His teachers thought him crazy
He never turned his homework in
They said his brain was lazy
Every day at ten to three
He’d start to act real funky
So they wrote on his report card:
Hey! We think your son’s a bus junkie
Well he barely graduated
He only made a one point two
But he always had a vision
Yeah he knew what he would do
He’d go down to the bus stop
When he got to feeling grumpy
Because he knew that his only cure for sure
Was to be a bus junky
Bus junkie’s up to his tricks
He’ll be out riding from ten to six
People think he’s doing it just for kicks
They don’t know he really needs that fix
grindina, shr1eking,
it was the flesh of rain
pounding a million times gently
I heard loudest
fey Olivia Jaye
I probably would never have seen him
But I was stopped doing seventy-five
The cops smelled alcohol on me
And took away my right to drive
I used to dish out shit to friends
I said the bus was just for flunkies
But now I see it from a different view ‘cause I too...
Have become a bus junkie
by Neil Martin
3rd prize for poetry
This is our box. Not yours - just ours. Out of the goodness of our hearts, we are allowing you to read it. Do NOT touch!!!! Ok, moving forwards (well, at
least squirming sideways)... Domo arigato, y'all. Innerdirected liability blackball xenophobia sofa shekel. We understood that; did you? You didn't?
That is because you are inferior, and you are touching the box. WE TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH THE BOX!!!! The following people, organizations,
objects, inmates, lifeforms, and imagined substances have paid a small (no, really - it WAS small!!) fee to have their names included in our esteemed
“Box of the Rhapsodors" thank you section:
the voices (everyone shut up in there!!), Raven's Lobo (he knows why - the rest of you keep your snoopy noses to yourselves), Cherry Coke (for its
ongoing emotional support), Brendon's bed (for letting him sleep on it) and my bed (for not laughing at my insomniacal ravings), the creators of the scan­
ner, mi familia und his familia, the computer guys (have yet to commit homicide), Adrian/Duncan, my cats (they were the principle layout staff), Shea
MacLeod ('cause she's violent), anyone I'm forgetting (and who didn't pay their admission fee), anyone who didn't touch the box, the music (I still haven't
decided if,I want it to STOP!! I'll let ya know), Kate Gray and anyone who forked over stuff that they don't own, and in fond memory of former future
aspects -1 don't need you anymore!! Oh, and I'm letting you know now - the music stays!! Ok, bye-bye.
-Cori Kargel/Raven McKnight (dual personalities) and Brendon Neal
(Rhapsodor-in-Chief and wanna-be Co-Rhapsodor)