The Power was Out, the Road was barely Passable, a Man Wore a Glock
The dawn was hot and wet and sticky and still In quest of a coffee and a croissant I stowed a chainsaw into the four-wheel-drive And dawdled into town, clearing windfall from the road
The breakfast buffet at the Valero, and then out Some men blocked the door, swapping pills and cash I begged their pardon and walk through their deal One wore a Glock on his hip; they all glowered at me
The dawn was hot; the paper-cup coffee was warm I drove home and got my old generator to work