And if you think
for one red second
that any of the madness
the stale cigarettes
and potholes on the ride back
the afternoons spent alone
on a couch, clutching guts
and a bottle and a smoke
burned down to the filter
while words replay
in a mind unduly cluttered
by the need and search for love
would be traded
like a baseball card
for one that's twice as shiny
and might increase in value
in some parallel universe
where everyone knows what matters
then, my friend
you've missed the finer points:
Read English;
speak Spanish;
try not to hurt anyone
on your stumble home.
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