And this guy tells me that he would have
gotten out of that jam with the cops,
but the nearest piano was four cheap suit
relapse clinics down from where he was causing trouble.

It didn’t go well for the old boy, I guess.
I don’t know. I’m a real jerk. I fall asleep in the middle
of casual war stories all the time now.

He wasn’t even charming like I used to be.
Kid Character like this, seems like the type of nobody
who would wait for the firecrackers from the noise
of the mid-afternoon Atlanta traffic to turn his lights back on.

And then he’d want to know why he was laying on top
of a thousand old “45’s in some cult leader’s backyard.

And then he’d want to know why Dylan turned out
so many lousy albums in the 1980’s.

I can’t really do anything to help this guy.
I’ve got my own problems to build around the destruction
I leave behind by thinking everything will be different this time.

Even though I’m doing the same old rotten things.

And this boy gets it. He’s right where I was five years ago.

He has seen so many come and go. He gets his flowers
from the old woman who sells them outside the Museum
of American History. He’s going to make her
a very wealthy widow indeed.

Forgiving himself is what this Kid Character really needs,
but between you and me, I don’t really see that happening.

Arrogant prick,
yeah,
and a loser in the tradition of the great songs written
for losers just like him.

Just like me.
And I would say something to this kid.
Really.
But I don’t think he’d listen
and I don’t think I’d be sincere.

And I actually have my own things to do.

I just haven’t left this lobby yet.
I don’t want to.
I’m not strong enough to strike up a deal
with what’s out there.

02/18/2013

Posted on 02/18/2013
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