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SOMEWHERE IN SACRAMENTO CALIFORNIA
AT SOME WELL KNOWN CRASH PAD
SOMETIME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WEEK
AND SOMETIME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AFTERNOON
DAY AND TIME
CUSTOMARILY UNKNOWN
TO RESIDENTS OF HOUSE
THE DISHES HAVEN’T BEEN WASHED
SINCE JULY (AND IT’S SEPTEMBER)
HALF EMPTY TO GO BOXES
WITH TWO WEEK OLD PIZZA
AND TACO BELL REMAINS
99 CENT BURGERS
FROM AM/PM
AND EMPTY BOTTLES
OF PLAIN WRAP LIQUOR
AND BEER CANS
LAY STREWN ACROSS THE KITCHEN FLOOR
LEAVING NOT EVEN A TRAIL
IN THE LIVING ROOM
THERE’S 4 GUYS
WHO HAVEN’T SLEPT
IN 3 DAYS
TRYING TO PUMP LIFE
OUT OF A KEG THAT’S
BEEN FINISHED SINCE THE WEEKEND
AND 2 PIT BULLS
GNAWING ON OLD RIB BONES
THERE’S FLIES EVERYWHERE
AND IT’S HOT
THE HICKOIDS
TALES OF TERROR
FANG
AND JOHNNY THUNDERS
IS BLARING OUT OF BEER SOAKED SPEAKERS
THAT PERIODICALLY KEEP
SHORTING OUT
THE TV IS ON
BUT THE SOUND IS OFF
SHOWING “BLUE VELVET”
FOR THE 5TH TIME THAT DAY
(MUST BE ANOTHER “FRANK” FEST)
AND IN THE MIDDLE OF ALL OF THIS
YOU’RE LOCKED AWAY
IN THE BATHROOM
LIKE PUNK ROCK ROYALTY
SITTIING ON YOUR THRONE
JACKING-OFF TO MY PICTURE
IN “FLIPSIDE” MAGAZINE
FOR THE SECOND TIME THAT DAY
THANK YOU,
I FEEL HONORED.
