There is a woman,
Covered entirely in fur,
Staring at me as I skip on by.
She's been there for, 10, 20, 40 years,
Watching.
Watching her corner parks turn into gas stations
And watching me walk.
And sometimes I stop.
And I stare.
And it takes everything in my body not to throw a brick through the window and take her for my wall.
And I wonder
How on earth is she still there
Beautiful
Poised
With nothing but dust covering her smile.
Because I can't be the first person to have wanted her like that.
I look.
Like a lost museum patron.
And then I keep walking.
Because most things
And all people
Are meant to stay beautiful.
And untouched.
Unless they ask you.
Or you own it.

I.
I just.
I don't know.
I don't know why...
I don't know why...
I don't know why things aren't better.
I don't know what makes a person........
I don't know what makes a person pick up a....
And hurt a....
And **** a...
I just...
I don't know.
I'm sorry.
I just...
I don't know.

I got them broken down, whiskey blood, drank too much ****** beer and didn't sleep enough, tumbleweave, cigarette ****, city wide blues.

And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and the blood and the black and the birds and the gags and the stew and the stewing and the hate and the cries and the wood and the prince and the tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and today.
Curtain

I walked up broad street
With my skirt tucked into my pants
And a kind stranger told me about it
And now I can't stop checking my ****.