mick kelleher rides his bike through the detroit suburb
with a tshirt that says iowa
and his two year old behind him in a kiddie seat.
hes nearly forty now and as skinny as he was when 17
i think about how he warmed
the bench for the Flubs in the 70s and
he thinks that life is grand and i wanna die
i wanna have my skull crushed in a trash disposal unit
one whose walls close and metal squeals and wood snaps
and guts spews the cubs werent shit with him
and im not shit without you.
the fellas across the street sit on the abandon couch fat
drinking the new flavor of budweiser
talking about lots of people but not skinny number twenty
lie about lots of girls but not you
this girl had most of her hair shaved down there
better eyes well differnt at least
soft skin yawn
and even she talked of you
mick knows im a fool
and where are these destructo fields
where you walk on a blade of grass
and it slices you
where is this place called peace
where can i get more than a piece
i wanna quit young like mick
i wanna be your top draft pick
i wanna fuckin have it now
i wanna see the holy cows