and a hole in my heart
I head west where people
wear weird hats
and think they invented cool.
I have walnuts in my beard,
while reading about blog picks
and baby elks,
just a dumb dumb doing nothing.
boredom is dangerous,
especially in California,
where fires burn my throat
and the trees around me,
making coyotes enter
the living room and eat my art.
meditating is not for me,
I need TV and drunk afternoons,
and I need you to call me back
about the gig tonight.