A shot of juice for good luck.

Some whiskey for the upset gullet.

My gun is loaded,

the joint is lit,

time to sway through these blighted streets.

mean men, cruel women, waifs,

junkies, needle freaks

sexaholics

populate these boulevards.

The gun rest silently in the glove box.

It waits as I cruise down shot out hotels

hookah lounges with stolid Arabs

debating nothing,

everything.

I burn my joint and flick the roach outside.

My love is laughter,

my love is tender

and in these suffocating nights

my love is vital.

I need a women with a fat ass

and sturdy legs to hold up the rump.

I need a pleasant women of love incarnate

I have the poem,

I have some whiskey,

I have some weed,

sweet lady cannabis

these nights are the nights people get stabbed in

beat to death,

left in dirt road alleys

I cruise in the honda

and cruise to nowhere.