Bumbucha Dreams

Bruno and Zeus stay howling.
Da blast skyrockets me towards Pluto where I crash land.
One blue-tongued plutonian points at plenty kanes, all named Lars
in der bebadeez. Dey ski past. Shoots, I follow dem.
Seconds pass, I ripped from da blue tundra by one nodda wail.
I spock da ambulance speeding from da North Shore.
I stay talking Italian to one Russian tita wit one blue smile.
I drink one beeg Slurpee. Da siren no’moa. I ski to da fewcha
wea ereteeng blue. I jettin wit Willie K.on top da ocean.
Garrens! Wat dat mean cuz?