Everyone wants new Under Armour shoes,
A bushel of steamed crabs,
A six-pack of booze.
I want you to have them,
I’ll buy them for you,
If you wait for the 31st of September.

Go right ahead, scoff if you may.
The grouches are laughing.
To them, a silly display,
That the city’s new calendars have September,
With one extra day.

(Thirty days hath September,
the rhyme from school, you do remember?)

Now, hold on and listen,
For that date where none were,
Not a goof, not a gaffe,
Not a City Hall blunder.
Why, it’s the stupendous, fantastic,
Baltimore day of wonder!

When September 31 arrives,
The city’s wishes will come true.
Write down all that you want,
Dream up all you will do.

First, we’ll take a cold dip in a harbor that’s clean.
With more fish and more oysters, menhaden in droves.
No muck in your hair,
No stink in your nose,
No scooters to step on,
Seagrass in your toes.

The harbor pavilions? Poof, gone.
In relief, we do sigh.
Big cables suspended,
Crisscrossing the sky.
Bramble’s gondola cars!
Let’s dry off with a ride.

On the 31st of September, we’ll run out of town,
All the slumlord investors,
Who let our houses run down.
And welcome back to the city all who moved away.
The council just passed the lowest taxes around!

To West Baltimore now,
There is no time to spare.
Clean the streets, clear the alleys,
For shade trees and fresh air.
Finally, we’re digging up,
The Highway to Nowhere.

Then the September 31st trucks will start to arrive.
Big boxes and crates are for every school,
Bringing new window units,
For our classrooms to cool.
Filled, all the cracks. Plugged, all the leaks,
The city, at last, it will open all pools!

What else do you want?
An “onion pickle” delight?
Want to drive through downtown,
Find in synch every light?
The Red Line, the Maglev,
Water bills to be right?
You can have it on the 31st of September.

Now, our friends in the ‘burbs,
They’re no doubt to worry.
We won’t brag. We won’t gloat,
But embrace them all, hurry.
Their wishes? Unanswered. And their dreams? Unfulfilled,
Because their calendars end September at thirty.

What more do you want?
Write your list down complete.
Want the guns to be gone?
Want goodwill in the street?
We’ll forgive and forget,
All the neighborhood beef.
Throw open your windows! Throw wide your front door!
Your Hyundai was even returned by the thief.

Grab your shovels and brooms, we will set fast to work,
Cleaning up structural inequality.
Throw it in the trash! Carry off the cans!
Replace it with friendship, cheer and frivolity.

Of that money-pit Hilton,
We will wash our hands.
Where the Mechanic came down,
That sad eyesore of land,
With our hammers and nails,
We will build a great stand.
Everyone is invited,
Hear the Morgan State Band!

Onto the dance floor,
What a rug we will cut.
As Bunkey Jr. leads us,
In his best Park Heights Strut.

Just say what you want.
Want relief from the heat? An old snow day for real?
Big flakes filling the sky.
You remember the thrill?
Grab your hat. Find your gloves.
We’re sledding Federal Hill.

Whatever you wish,
Just say the word.
Want the pennant raised high,
by our Oriole birds?
And the Super Bowl ring,
That Lamar does deserve?

Now, we have one more wish,
Cause no order’s too tall.
For this wondrous day,
Conferred by City Hall,
Bring back weekly recycling!
For one and for all.