I'm on the subway
Now
Thinking about poetry
How it moves through the membranes
And makes me dip my head in the sink
Cool water against my face, the streets have been turned on to me
I guess that was hanks way of saying
I'm a bad boy just by virtue of reading his work
And I hope that is true
I'd like to be a wild vulture
Silent, stewing in the miraculous discovery of it
I'd like to wear my leather boots with pride
I'd like to be a snake fighting with a hawk and sting his way out, slither away, indifferent to death
There isn't anything standing in my way, really
I am wearing the James dean jeans., and I've got my head crooked down slightly with my forehead furrowed

Yeh, today will be okay