No town homes in my hometown We throw up and we throw down Drinks pour up, tears pour down No outlet in this port town
Glass crumbs and shards elephant-skinned sidewalks smeared with tomato paste the streets remember potato-tipped death machines starchy falsetto bullets the cracking window skull smushy hamburger meat brain meet bullet—meet steering wheel—meet ster e o
my little brother stays in a shelter on American and California where babies sit themselves change is a dollar short and DST stands for daylight shootings time
Grandfather time please stroke your shredded wheat goatee just a little longer postpone apocalyptic soon the children will hop skotch on chalked body silhouettes and jumprope with bungie cord intestines
But not him my little commando he will find a way out depart from home plate three strikes carved on a flaming chariot soaring through the sky like barbasol jet streams the great escape