Champagne Under Water is Extra Bubbly.

Chill son, getting by, coolie high . . .
Forget the sky son;
Where you be is who you are.
Semi aquatic alumni
Of the art institute of octopi
Writing graffiti
ON THE REEF
With nudibranchs and hot headed lobsters
Who tote guns and shoot dice.
The price of spice is worth twice underwater
Because everyone knows it's more fun to be high
At the bottom of the ocean.

Later that day . . .
I was waiting for the subway
Headed east bound, feeling low
When I noticed this slutty little stingray
On the bench sipping bombay,
She was looking real fine and I had the time
So I pulled up real close and dropped this bird a few lines.
Said spread the love honey
Bet you're talented naked.
I didn't pay attention to a word she replied
Just sat there thinking, about us in bed,
About what I could take next to ease the pain in my head.
I kissed her goodbye,
Gave her a wink and a smile
And caught the next train downtown
At exactly four o five.

After the short trip . .
I pulled up to the phone booth on 45th and brain coral boulevard
to shoot the shit with a pimpin shrimp
named Earl.
Earl always had a pearl handled .45
tucked in his pants;
He rocked a jerry curl and a thousand pound chain
With a diamond studded name tag.
He was real hard and hung heavy in the current,
but today our conversations about god
Were cut short
Because a pimp can't wait
When there's money to be made,
And horny dogfish prowling the streets
trying to get laid.
Two blocks later I met confrontation
And a load of frustration
When I was accosted by a young oyster out to make a buck.
Down on his luck he turned to stick up
And I'm the sorry fuck he decided to hit.
I instructed him to go shuck himself,
To bad I'm broke and only got one smoke;
Aint shit left for you homeboy
So put away that squirt gun and buzz off you toy.

Just then my ride pulled up curbside . . .
A crab named Opi who pushed kilos of snow
And drove a rusty green oldsmobile
covered in barnacles
With a virgin mary bobble head
And a strawberry scented jesus on the rearview.
We decided to shoot stop signs
and smash mailboxes
And talk about the politics of the ocean.
How the upper echelon provides tax breaks to the elite,
Surface swimming fortunate lushes,
And enacts gravitational laws
To keep the crustaceans oppressed.
We sat smoking cigarettes and staring up at the waves
with aspirations of leaving the reef,
To live free in the open waters.
Until that day comes
we'll just keep selling crack to the tweaking tuna,
Steal hermit shells on the weekends;
And kill starfish for thinking their name makes them special.

WORD