Scenic California…
Bright alright, barely awake
and that single palm tree in the glare.
gimme shelter. Traffic second hand smoke on the way through the crevices between the jammed hills, waiting for pills.
even at the gas station its like some early cold ‘85 morning, the west becoming the old east, dying in the concrete freeze, cold, cold, fucking so cold breeze. Until summer we melt into the sidewalks, real fear and loathing, nothing you could put into words.
that trail leading to the cliff you pace back and forth dropping butts into the air.
and thats where i am, faded away on the road, carrying a load, honking the horn, and hiding out in the midwest, kansas city motel room with a pregnant hooker and a sheet of crack, fresh out the oven. the slow hand, the slow draw on the door, out to the car where i parked next to an almond orchard, and made it to san b county in less than five hours. ive picked at my face until i couldnt even go into the store without having to make it quick.
Lead foot, hovering on the wire, fingers about to be cut off. brain escaped long ago and left the animal eyes the soul glowing toward forward, everything just sounds…
