dealing with an owl
and looking for arrowheads
and having dinner with Neal Cassidy,
I was in an alley
reading poetry
to a cute comet
then we went to a faux English pub
where I almost fought the bartender;
it wasn't his fault;
I stuck a bunch of Coyote Blood stickers
in the bathroom and forgot
that I was wearing a loud Coyote Blood jacket.
one more whiskey and my belly said jump.
what a day.
I like someone who makes movies
for all the right reasons
and I talk my stupid face off
with cold teeth.