Drunk in Barstow,
waiting for a waitress,
who gets off at 2:00 a.m.

The crap game cleaned me,
two bums on the pool table,
snoring like a train

Drunk in Barstow,
third time this month,
I just never seem to learn

The waitress said,
“My boyfriend’s gone,
truck’s on the road to Bern”

Drunk in Barstow,
on borrowed time,
the repo man at hand

I swear tomorrow
I’ll get it right,
tonight—any way I can

(Barstow California: July, 1991)