My car broke down in Arizona,
have to
ride the bus again, at the-o-clock
on
Tuesday night, with thtirteen
cents and a
broken pen. I put my
backpack on the
bench, tell two peole I don’t
smoke,
see the cop across the street,
he thinks
that I am selling dope, I
could have
walked another block, to get
away from
the scene. Why does
it always come to
this, where zero meets fifteen?
And so I gave my thirteen cents,
to the
man who peed his pants.
He passes out
and falls on me, I watch my
change fall
from his hand. I see
the lady next to
me, holds her baby black blue.
The junkie gutter-punks keeps
asking,
where I got my new tattoo.
What does
it matter anyway, thirteen
cents or all I
own? How can I ever
save the world,
on cup-o-soup and student
loans?
I want to try and save the
world, but it
never goes that way.
God I don’t know what to do,
down at
Colfax and Broadway.
Now the man with no shoes on,
says I
don’t know how to play.
He says I
fumble all the time.
He thinks that I am
John Elway. I put my
face down in my
hands, water wells inside
my eyes.
What do I have to give them?
Does it
matter if I try? I can’t
stand to see you
suffer, I try to intellectualize,
a formula
to end you pain, it doesn’t
work, God
knows I’ve tried.
Sometimes my cup is overfilled.
Sometimes I’m too afraid that
I’m going to spill.