Crazy Annie’s only going to a place and a half
since she got the front half of her left foot cut off.
Before that she always went two places at once.
To the right place with the right foot.
To the left place with the left foot.
Just like everybody else.
Crazy Annie walks down the street in July
and she don’t wear shoes. Oh no.
And the front half of her left foot don’t get sunburned.
Her hair is all tangled up in last Thursday’s wind
and through the holes in her teeth she keeps talking
to her mother who’s dead fifteen years.
All the twofooted people in fourwheeled cars
going six directions giggle at her half foot.
They don’t care about she’s talking to her rotted mother.
Crazy Annie walking down the hot sidewalk in July
don’t go no farther than she’s got to.
That’s why she don’t wear shoes.
—Virginia R. Terris
since she got the front half of her left foot cut off.
Before that she always went two places at once.
To the right place with the right foot.
To the left place with the left foot.
Just like everybody else.
Crazy Annie walks down the street in July
and she don’t wear shoes. Oh no.
And the front half of her left foot don’t get sunburned.
Her hair is all tangled up in last Thursday’s wind
and through the holes in her teeth she keeps talking
to her mother who’s dead fifteen years.
All the twofooted people in fourwheeled cars
going six directions giggle at her half foot.
They don’t care about she’s talking to her rotted mother.
Crazy Annie walking down the hot sidewalk in July
don’t go no farther than she’s got to.
That’s why she don’t wear shoes.
—Virginia R. Terris
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