Friday, April 25, 2008


For some reason it made them uncomfortable,
when I’d sit out there for hours,
jesus, days at a time.
Drinking that bourbon and scribbling little poems,
always alone at my own table,
always away from them.
“why don’t you come join us?” they’d ask.
“Come sit with us!”
I’d stare back at them and finally say,
“listen, you fuckers.
I was in that womb alone
and I’m gonna go to that coffin alone, all right?
Why the fuck should I do it any differently out here?”

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