“…nice moon, very romantic, but it
Can’t get me twenty dollars for the kids’ clothes,
Books, diapers, very nice moon.”
“…hey, throw me some shoes. I got so drunk
That I lost mine, come on, throw them down.”
“…rent, food, some money, if not fifty cents or a dollar for a Coke.”
Mall-talk, no.
Alley piss-filled talk, yes.
“…get the fuck away from my car,” he yells
And runs from the cantina at me.
“Sorry, your car looks like mine, see.”
“OK, but be careful where you put your key.”
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