home / writing main / slam poems main / last poem / next poem


Olive Oyl



There I was


The Big City

in a classic cartoon caper


the whole city was jumping, juke-joint jiving

to the beat of the foot-stompin' music that filled the air


Mountains pounded bongos

clouds kept time on the bass

and the sun was wailing away on an angel's trumpet


bouncing buildings with barbershop voices sang happy jazz songs

flapper dogs and hep cats were swingin' in the streets

everyone was happy, smilin' and dancin', so I joined on in


and it was awesome

cause the music wasn't constricted to a single merry melody

it was loony tunes playing all day

loony tunes playing till the moon came in with a long slow note on her saxophone


the sun and the moon had a duet in the sky

then the sun played one last set for a final finale and fell behind the hills with a wave

and I took a seat at a cartoon corner café and sipped coffee


I was whistling the moon's tune when I saw her,

crossing the street,

walking toward me,

she was,

Olive Oyl

with anime eyes

eyes that didn't belong in this era

tall with swimmer's shoulders and wire thin limbs

and when she flapped her eyelashes in my direction

I could only wish that I was Popeye or at least Brutus,


but instead I said, "Awwooooggaaahhh!!!! Awwooooggaaahhh!!!!"

my tongue flapped from my mouth and unfurled at her feet like a red carpet

which would have been great

except that at the same time

and my eyes bugged out and groped her titties

and it was obvious that she didn't like this at all

because her collar turned red and started steaming

and she turned and started walking away


but cartoons don't give up so easily

so I took off running after her


I came on strong

pulling off my best Bruce Wayne

but from her expression

I was coming across as Pepe Le Pew

so thinking quick and slick,

I stretched my arm like elastic

behind my back and around a corner

and grabbed some daisies off the cart of a passing merchant

I handed them to her shyly

and she was impressed!


her knees knocked together, hands wrung by her ear

and we started dancin' again in the street

cheek to cheek, heels back, chins high

we danced right outta the city

and everything was goin' groovy great for a while

when who should pull up on his motorcycle

but this Charles Lindbergh motherfucker

in leather and goggles

and a white scarf flapping over his shoulder like a sacred flag

and suddenly she was in his arms insteada mine

I didn't even see her feet move

it was like she was snapped up by some evil force

and before I knew it I was standing alone on the corner

with a wilted bouquet of daisies,

coughing in a cloud of laughter and motorcycle dust as they rode off into the night.


but like I said, cartoons don't give up so easily

so I whipped out my extendable stick

which I stretched to catch'em

and stuck up in the spokes o' that bloke's motorbike


 they both went flyin' over the handlebars!

but before Olive Oyl could be seein' stars

I caught her quick with my extendable stick

and zipped her back into my arms.


the moon's saxophone sonata plays on over the stars' violins

now picture Olive and me from the side

we kiss and a heart grows out of the point where our lips touch

it covers the screen completely

and your expecting a pig in a jacket,

but instead comes a dog in a hat
who says:

That's all Folks!

(goofy laugh)










l(pick up right after "as they rode off together into the night")


plodding my way back to town

I thought about Olive Oyl-


she sure is fickle

I mean, first she was with Brutus

then Popeye kicked his ass repeatedly so she got with him

then she hooked up with me behind his back just cause I gave her some flowers

and then at the drop of a hat she goes off with some other guy with a slick motorcycle

she'll probably leave him for the first guy to come along who's even bigger!


fact is,

I'm better off without her

I don't need people like that in my cartoon.


(goofy laugh.)


(c) Copyright 2004, Danny Strack




home / writing main / slam poems main / last poem / next poem