listenin’ to Monk at 3 this morn…Charlie down the hall leaves the toilet runnin’…his girlfriend yells out…,Christ…shake the handle…,and he curses under his breath ’bout how ungrateful she is to have a roof over her head and she wails…,get in bed…get in bed…, as i sit here typing away to all of america’s misery in the heartland where used car-lots…used furniture…used women are on every corner selling their wares to hopeless Joes who let the one slip away years ago into the hands of their best friend Bill…told ya’ he was no-good…told ya’…
and now Ella sings I loves you Porgy while a deal goes down in the alley by the church where yesterday i prayed for forgiveness and for your soul too but is it too late…is it too late…hands are shook…a broad smacks her gum and drags on a menthol as cop cars pass by a green neon sign blinking…,Mannie’s Tacos…Mannie’s Tacos…Mannie’s Tacos…,in cursive of course…he was always fancy that way…chicks dug ’em…
Chet Baker closes out the set with Funny Valentine…and i think of you…i think of you…,”don’t change a hair for me…not if you care for me…,” well do ya’…do ya’…
it is pitch black…streetlights yawn…porch lamps cough an’ wheeze…cough an’ wheeze…with engines sputtering and middle- aged men moanin’…the kitchen colors go from bright to dim…bright to dim…
and the day begins again…again…
in a Midwest town that hope forgot about long ago…long ago…
time for a danish…
dmseay 