Not an acre and a mule. Not a 57 Chevy.
  No how to build a house or change the oil.
  My father had things to give me but
  he never offered and I never asked.
  I inherited his anger and empathy and
  hold them both dear. These make me, Me.

Grampa Rosselot showed me how to live in
  bars and laugh 'til the devil had his fill.
Drink dept charges and hair of the dog
share lust with perfumed bar stool lovers
in the big back seat of a fancy Buick
and bring a bouquet home to the wife.