a few quarters for the newspaper on the bus floor no one picks up,
and the lactose and sugared caffeine in the cup,
a few dollars for the suffering,
a few ideas for the road,
a few things I meant to tell you,
a few bombs ready to explode,
a few smiles while you placate the nagging bloodsuckers,
a few nods while I move aside for the wives and their big diamond rings,
while I roll out the red carpet,
drop rose petals,
and shower gratuities,
on Ottawa wives with their big diamond rings,
a few moments for a homeless man's rant,
a few moments before and few moments after,
a few sounds,
that sound like love trying not to cry,
which kind of sounds like laughter,
a few thoughts because I don't have much,
but don't want much more,
a few steps through a darkened door,
a few bottles of beer under a dingy light,
another for the bumping and scraping,
and then a few more,
to celebrate the shit people move at night.
3 comments:
listening to Ragged Glory just made this piece all the better
everything sounds better with the crunchy Neil power chords
Ohh...Dark, bitter, painful, but never gives up. Good stuff. Like a pay toilet on a last dime.
The shit people move at night. Always amazes.
Almost as interesting as the shit people build at night. What the fuck is he building in there?
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