I did a quick standup set tonight
and killed it with the old upstate crowd,
and then I drank vodka, ate secondhand orange sherbet,
then drove the highway,
listening to Prince, and the sound of trucks.
Oh fuck, my reality is weird.
Here I am driving with the windows down,
getting hungry, with no place to really go.
I am not needed anywhere.
So, I keep going.
Hunger makes me a modern stupid boy,
and this part of the world goes to sleep early,
except for a Taco Bell two towns over,
and so I go, in a borrowed car,
feeling like a huckleberry hood rat.
I've been seeing things lately
that I cannot explain,
like jelly cans that can't cry,
and reminders on curtains
that the next life will still have questions.