A Wicker Basket

    Comes the time when it's later²

    and onto³ your table the headwaiter

    puts the bill⁴， and very soon after

    rings out the sound of lively⁵ laughter——

    Picking⁷ up change， hands like a walrus⁸，

    and a face like a barndoor's，

    and a head without any apparent⁹ size¹⁰，

    nothing but two eyes——

    So that's you， man，

    or me. I make it as¹ I can，

    I pick⁶ up， I go

    faster than they know——

    Out the door， the street like a night，

    any night， and no one in sight¹¹，

    but then， well， there she is，

    old friend Liz——

    And she opens the door of her cadillac，

    I step¹² in back，

    and we're gone.

    She turns me on——

    There are very huge¹³ stars， man， in the sky，

    and from somewhere¹⁴ very far off¹⁵ someone¹⁶ hands

    me a slice¹⁷ of apple pie¹⁸，

    with a gob of white， white ice cream¹⁹ on top of it，

    and I eat it——

    Slowly²⁰. And while²¹ certainly²²

    they are laughing at me， and all around me is racket²³

    of these cats not making it， I make it

    in my wicker basket.