Filipino Boogie

Under a ceiling-high Christmas tree I pose in my Japanese kimono My mother hands me a Dale Evans cowgirl skirt and baby cowgirl boots Mommy and daddy split No one else is home I take some rusty scissors and cut the skirt up in little pieces (don't give me no bullshit fringe, Mama) Mommy and daddy split No one else is home I take my baby cowgirl boots and flush them down the toilet (don't hand me no bullshit fringe, Papa) I seen the Indian Fighter Too many times dug on Sitting Bull before Donald Duck In my infant dream These warriors weaved a magic spell more blessed than Tinker Bell (Kirk Douglas rubs his chin and slays Minnehaha by the campfire) Mommy and daddy split There ain't no one else home I climb a mango tree and wait for Mohawk drums (Mama—World War II is over . . . why you cryin'?) Is this San Francisco? Is this San Francisco? Is this Amerika? buy me Nestle's Crunch buy me Pepsi in a can Ladies' Home Journal and Bonanza I seen Little Joe in Tokyo I seen Little Joe in Manila I seen Laramie in Hong Kong I seen Yul Brynner in San Diego and the bloated ghost of Desi Arnaz dancing in Tijuana Rip-off synthetic ivory to send the natives back home and North Beach boredom escapes the barber shops on Kearny street where they spit out red tobacco patiently waiting in 1930s suits and in another dream I climb a mango tree and Saturday afternoon Jack Palance bazookas the krauts and the YELLOW PERIL bombs Pearl Harbor