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What are you waiting for?
Brad's tellin me all about it.
Still swimmin in the events and various bodily fluids.
She's in the can. I'm on the stoop.
It's too cold for this shit tonight.
But she'll want to talk.
She'll want to reach around my ribs
I never understood that.
Girls
and my shoulders.
I'm casing the short fence for a hop-over
when I remember its my place.
Its my strangelove.
Its my life she's swimming in.
Just wondering when I have to stop sharing it.
All the cool parts already happened.
Hood surfing
mooning dealers, wheat field runaways
beatdowns, tire tracks, loaded guns.
Now I'm just some guy
instead of some kid
some punk.
Chapter's closed, now I'm out to save the world.
Or at least pay my bills.
Makes me wonder why she's really here.
She hates poetry.
I can't be THAT good of a lay...
I could always ask.
But then we're back to my shoulders.
That gnarly scar.
That distance behind my eyes,
and the ever encroaching necessity to hop that fence.
