On the seventeenth day of the year's seventh month, in the year nineteen seven
Church bells were waking up northern Manhattan, ringing high heaven
Times seven ... oh yeah, and the seventh day of the week,
His mom was a sea-captain's daughter, his dad's name was LeRoy, the king,
The birth of a boy, unfashionably early, but chic.
He was raised in the heart of Harlem, and on North Carolina's coasts
Folks prayed the prince would quit playing with his little thing.
Where gray Spanish Moss hung on great old oaks like ghosts
South of Wilmington, a Cape Fear River port
Catching hell for his devilish eyes, to his big-city-boy surprise,
The sea-breezes swung, like the skirts of the girls he'd court,
For conceit in disguise often leads to love's demise.
Had the usual share of ups and downs, paying his dues,
Turned-on, tuned-in, dropped-out Fredonia, one of NY's State U's,
Worked a whole mess of lousy jobs to get through school,
Then Len Galiulo, his mentor, his poetry prof, kicked his ass
Got busted, drove cabs, wrote comics, stayed broke, stayed cool.
Sold-out as soon as he could -- he wanted new amps and a bass,
Back to college -- he finished with honors, a head of his class.
His dad, a musician, said, "What, are you crazy? Get out the rat-race."
And a star. Nine-to-fived it, bored, but real cute and cocky.
His prof taught him, "Go see the world. Grow. Broaden your vision."
His mom told him, "I never raised you to be a desk jockey."
Fools learn their lessons the hard way -- he made his decision.
He landed a photojournalist gig, his ticket to ride,
Loving his life on the go, living for love on the side,
And he took to the clouds. No time for stardom or poetry,
Have Nikon and notebook will travel, but a near-death encounter occurred.
Writing his ticket and loving it, so much to see,
Bringing us up to a year's seventh month, and its seventeenth day,
Concussion, unconscious, the song of the Muses he heard.
And a group called "rec.arts.poems." He was near-born again, right away,
As a comet came crashing to Jupiter, he found the net,
Now he thinks he's the outlaw of love, quite the dashing, poetic outsider.
Falling in love with a love he forgot to forget.
Fools learn their lessons the hard way, Jesse Rider.
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