it doesn’t seem so long ago

that i smoked some cloves

was listening to the Pogues

and drifted into some world war

that i’ve only seen in film

over at Grauman’s Chinese theater

my blues are turning black

and though i opted out of methadone

it never meant that i was strong

will i ever say farewell and laser off the scars

of the circumstances of our battles

at two i’m getting up to pee

the midnight birds are wrapping up

the roosters will shortly crow their song

across the street with the old Japanese couple

i like to think that yesterday’s gash was really a fluke

but the book teaches that we must be quite honest

not being responsible enough to make a decision

i straighten out the linen closet instead

until the sun washes away my pain with her golden arms of fire