He walks into the café
After rising from his cot
To tell Big Island tales of
Saving mangoes from rot.
Starting every new day
With a roar “I’m still alive”
He jousts contesting locals
Not taking any jive.
He tells us of his stagecraft
And making a crowd spell-bound
Crowing his take on music
For him no other sound.
Recounting his life story
Says he’s an autodidact
So advice to debaters
Make sure to be exact.
Pushing “neither is” for “are”
As proof of his phrasing fame
Is he putting it on us
Using that Funky Name?
People like him are so few
We like him no other way
So… Won’t you? Won’t you? Won’t you?
Yield when he says “Touché.”
© 2021, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved.
