I Wrote her a love letter but she dropped it.
No money for the metro so we hopped it.
No money for the petro so I hocked a loogie
Then pawnshop hocked it:
Spitting that sick shit for profit.
We sat prostrate in front of our profit, then,
With her wet wig at the end of my mop-stick.
Check her prospects, then, blurry her optics.
We fly out in a flurry of topics.
I'm the nit-wit in her twit-pics:
But she stopped its clock-ticks when she cropped it.
I should have told her,
I'm so fly she would die in my cock-pit.
And the Black Box is,
The love letter in her back pocket but she dropped it.
I turned the corner to see Sunshine and Crystal
Breaking into my efficiency.
Crystal’s legs and ass were hanging out of the window.
Sunny was already in.
Both barely had anything on.
Both thought I was asleep and wanted me on their own;
So bad that they teamed up.
Time's touch of roughness and
A hot mess of radiance;
Treating my house as if it were my heart.
Her voice would cleanse me, but
Her voice-mail popped every last
Bubble in the bath water.
Her phone rang and rang.
Wringing me out.
Leaving each ring
In the bathtub.
I thought you were still in the shower
but I found you in the sunlight that the patio keeps.
I missed the tightening of your skin as it dried.
Then it loosened you in its warmth just to
Show me the sweat beading. Growing wherever
Like seeds let go from the wind; held no longer
Than they should have been.
It was a careless orchard.
The organics of now
Fruitful and ripe
But only for that moment.
Someone stole the last piece of my turkey sandwich.
I bet the motherfucker put some pepper on it.
I hope it was pepper from that
dirty ass pepper-shaker that is no longer see-through.
That bastard left me with one poker-chip pickle slice and
Those pieces of potato chips that you
Have to spear with a fingertip to eat.
I am sure he put mustard on that last piece of turkey sandwich;
In that delicate delicatessen squiggly pattern that is all in the wrist.
-And, speaking of wrist, that jerkoff forged my signature perfectly.
He even put another Lone Star bottle on my tab then
Neatly arranged the bottle caps next to four toothpicks.
That suave motherfucker.
To honor him, when I get home
I am going to smoke his weed,
Fuck his girlfriend and take his shit.
RIP Jeff Hunter