Broken Crow

Intro: You've gone skinny all alone in New York City it's okay, spread the peanut butter thick. you're back home. sleep 'til noon and listen to the shape shifters in the volvo on your way to borrow foreign movies from the library. did they teach you french in new york? did you learn to shave your face close with dial soap and a steak knife? how to slickly wipe a sweaty palm on your pants thigh before shaking hands firm with the shadiest show promoters? i know it's hard for a single person to fold queen size bed sheets. you left your reds hat in the back seat of mom's volvo. i know it's hard for a single person to fold queen size bed sheets. you left your reds hat in the back seat of the volvo. she wanted to have it cast in bronze to be put on display next to your baby shoes and first buck on the t.v. in the den. but i knew you'd be back to eat a bowl of peanut butter bumpers, to jerk off to the lingerie ads in the j.c. penny catalogue. I knew you'd be back. i knew you'd come back, to go back to school or get a job at the downtown library, the health food store, painting apartments for ray ritchie, or to work at the cigar kiosk at kenwood mall. it's cooo-oooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-oool. just make sure you get out of here by december. go to california. go to hawaii. cincinnati sucks in the winter, you know that like the bump on the back of your neck. it sucks the leaves from the trees,and by the time the snow is melting,they always find four or five bodies hanging by belts from the train trestles, or in empty parking lots slit wrists, turning what's left of the snow into cherry slushy. i knooo-ooo-oooo-ooo-ooow, all beautiful places are prone to natural disaster. but being swallowed by the earth in manilla beats a slow death in the midwest.