Every Time I Hear Loony Tunes

Every time
I listen
to The Cure
I think about
the boy
that got away,
like Wile E. Coyote,
over the edge
of a car crash
in the dark of night.

Every time
I listen
to Tricky
I'm sure about
the love
I've given up,
like Bugs Bunny,
knowing I should
have taken
a left turn
in Albuquerque.

Every time
I listen
to Morrissey
I'm crazy about
the day
fading out,
like Yosemite Sam,
hollering when
I say, Whoa!
I mean, Whoa!

Every time
I listen
to Lucinda Williams
I'm sick about
the way
grace slips by,
like Sylvester
lisp suffering
succotash
while Tweety Bird
twitters.

Every time
I listen
to Wagner
I'm mad about
the gray
given sway,
like Marvin the Martain
sneaking in unnamed
for two decades
until Warner Brothers
needed to market him.

Every time
I listen
to One Republic
I feel about
to hope,
like Pepe Le Pew
fondling faith
despite rebuff
from
the millionth face.

Every time
I listen
to Everything But the Girl
I remember
what it's about,
obnoxious but true,
like Foghorn Leghorn
bellowing
that's a joke
to the bewildered
book Chick.

Ever time
I listen
to the music,
I hear
a Loony Tune,
a siren song,
about life,
and keep
living
like that's what
it's for.

Another nostalgic siren song source.

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