there are always gnats in my whiskey
and we hardly ever empty the ashtrays
and I have band-aids
on the bony part of my foot
where things just rub it wrong.
and it is hot in Philadelphia
and all the sidewalks smell like wet
and the old men can never keep it straight
if they asked me for a quarter today or yesterday
and I wonder what would happen if I just threw hot dogs at the lot of them.
I think the problem lies in each of us
that if we got together block by block
we could change things,
today I have taken to putting out cigarettes before they’re finished.
that way I can see the camel look forwards,
the smoke rises up
and I watch it go into the air vent
above my head.
come over tonight, and I’ll make a nice icy drink for you
and I’ll show you the scabs on my arms
from carrying heavy things made of wood
all up and down the stairs.