my arm pits smell
like discarded BBQs.
my dental floss smells
like Petter Carlaftes' breath.
getting old really sucks,
especially since I am not
old enough to not care
or steal things yet.
libraries raised me.
Hallowed be thy name.
in the next life
we will do it better.
I am a little chipped
from the night before.
Hell, from all the nights before,
and the neck of the woods.
this vagabond moon
sees too much of me.
time to tack towels
over the windows.
get right, get ugly,
sing like Bob Dylan
counting money
if I was a river.