This is not a good time to feel hopeless.
Money as fantastic as four whole twenty dollar bills
have been known to fall from one of those windows
that deals in the kind of strange business practices
that can only occur at five thousand feet or more.

I used to know the people
who made their living on that kind of danger,
and they weren’t exactly known for making it
to the ripe old age of thirty-two.

Most of them weren’t known for much of anything,
but a lot of those boys and girls were failed bartenders
in another life, so we made due with what we had.

This is not a good time to try dance moves
on telephone wires with two drunken left feet.

Classy women who can curse a blue winning streak
are all over the place these days. Some of them even smile
when you try your best. A few of the legends around here
have even gotten away with murder.

Take my quiet word for it. I should have been laid to rest
out on Crucifixion Row back in those days of all for blood
and rest for none. Those broads are crazy,
but they know how to light a cigarette when the top
of your speeding car needs to take a personal day in the sky.

Even the preachers know what they’re talking about,
when they tell you that every little thing’s gonna be okay
and start up the next rock and roll number from the playlist
you haven’t entertained in entirely too long.

Death rides the same old pale horse,
but he also knows when he’s not needed.

Good luck finding that anywhere else.

I’ve been from Hell to California and back
more than anyone else I know. So it goes
that I always wind up right back here.

Somehow the immediate is both
backwards and forwards. I’m not sure that makes sense,
but it makes sense enough to me, and I’m even starting
to suspect it’s a good thing.

This is not a good time to give up in mid-stride.
Things are a lot more interesting
when you’re starving for the magic show.

01/01/2011

Posted on 01/02/2011
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