Icky Thump: Review

When was the last time you knew where your home was but couldn’t find the door & you wished you had never left your sweetheart under that big brown tree & you don’t know whether it was you or your guitar that was selling pecans to pidgins & everyone’s eyes you didn’t trust?

When was the first time you spelled your brother’s name on a christmas present & why did it take so long for everyone to read it– was it the puppy’s fault? Was it the butterfly effect or the berlin airlift that broke your sense of time? Why’d you pick up her handkerchief just to put it in your pocket & why didn’t you pat someone on the head, even if none of them were young enough to kick out the jams?

This was a private party, but no one’s checking invitations No one’s splitting hairs or cussing in glasses Is this Mexico or is this the thoroughbred North? Is that anyway to talk to a lady & a horse?

When was the last time you really knew which role you were in & what lines you were supposed to say & what mark you were supposed to hit & which way is the stage & which way is the curtain & before you kn– it’s time to curtsey or bow, so pick your best and dust your broom.